


Slow Moments

by ThisShallNeverBeMentioned



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisShallNeverBeMentioned/pseuds/ThisShallNeverBeMentioned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most children have imaginary friends. Some know from the beginning it's a game, and some truly believe, but either way as they grow up, they stop believing. Michael finds himself playing out the reverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slow Moments

_There’s a fine line between what’s real and what’s not, and sometimes the line blurs beyond recognition. If you let it._


	2. Chapter One

**The first time I saw him, I thought I was dreaming…**

 

It was so strange, so sudden that it felt as if I’d slipped off to sleep. Barely five minutes ago my mother had come by to wish me goodnight and turn off the light before she shut the door. I’d closed my eyes, and the next minute-

“Hey!”

A soft voice called out. I opened my eyes and sat up in bed, squinting across my bedroom to the open window. A blurry figure was sitting on the sill, small enough that their dangling legs didn’t reach the floor; a wide grin lit up in the semi darkness.

“Want to play?”

I grabbed my new glasses from the bedside table and placed them on my face, and sure enough, the boy came into focus. His accent was lilting, rising in odd places and infinitely different to my own. He had a pointy little face surrounded by a mop of light fluffy hair that seemed to stick up in all directions, bright large eyes and an even larger nose. He looked younger than me, maybe only eight or nine years old? He was still staring at me, obviously waiting for an answer.

“It’s nighttime.” I replied. I was stating the obvious, the darkness outside and the silvery moonlight was a clear indication, but the boy tilted his head to the side in genuine confusion.

“So?”

I frowned slightly. “So you don’t play at night.” I explained shortly. “You gotta sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because.” I replied, slightly annoyed.

He kicked his legs out, head still on its side. “That’s stupid.” He said decisively. “Playtime is whenever you want to play. Don’t you think?”

He was so earnest, and I found myself wondering about my own words. There wasn’t really any further explanation, I just knew it as the way it was. Night was when you went to sleep, day was when you woke up and went to school and played. But what the boy said made sense. Playtime was when you played.

The boy seemed to take my silence as assent.

“C’mon, let’s play.” He said, and in one swift movement slid out of the window. The thud when he landed outside was softer than I thought it would be.

I pushed back the blankets on my bed and crossed to the window. When I peered out and down, the boy was standing just below in the garden bed. He smiled up at me and beckoned, taking a few steps backwards to give me space, watching expectantly.

I could have closed my window. Gone back to bed, gone to sleep, but for some reason this kid was mesmerising.

And I wasn’t really tired anymore.

My bedroom was on the bottom floor of the house, but it was raised enough that there was still a good drop to the ground. I shimmied out of my window, stomach against the sill and legs dangling, then let myself drop, glad I only stumbled and didn’t fall when my bare feet hit the dewy grass.

When I turned around to face him, I noticed that he was almost my height exactly. He didn’t look so much younger anymore.

“How old are you?” I asked, curious.

He grinned and puffed out his chest proudly. “I just turned three.” He said smugly.

I stared, and couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped, quickly clapping a hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t wake anyone in the house.

“You’re kidding right? You can’t be three years old! You’re almost as big as me.” I scoffed.

He tilted his head to the side again, something he seemed to be in the habit of doing when he was confused. It reminded me of a puppy dog. “Well, how old are you then?”

“Ten.” I answered, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Really? Wow!” I didn’t think his eyes could get wider. “You must be really smart then!”

“Probably.” I was grinning now. This kid was all right, if a bit strange.

He suddenly jumped forward, clapping his hands once. The sharp sound was too loud and I hastily looked back at the house, but all the lights remained off. A hand on my wrist brought my attention back to the boy, now pulling me along across my large backyard.

“I know what we can play!” he said excitedly. He stopped under the largest tree in the yard and pointed up at the branches with his spare hand. “This is our sky-ship base. We’re pilots and all the other trees are enemy bases with pirates.”

“Okay..?” I furrowed my eyebrows as I followed his pointing with my eyes. “So how do we fight them?”

He thought for a moment, and then nodded seriously. “We’ve got to conquer their bases, and make the pirates  _our_  crewmates. C’mon, let’s start stocking the base with ammo!”

He raced off immediately, collecting pebbles from around the garden beds. I followed, watching him before joining in. He seemed to have a preference for the shinier pebbles that looked like big chunks of salt, so I hunted for them too. When I’d filled one hand, I tipped them into the hem of my pyjama shirt, holding up the edges in a makeshift pouch.

“Is this enough?” I asked, and he inspected my collection, tipping his own in with a nod and a smile.

We took the pebbles back to the base of the tree, and he set to work arranging them in groups around one side. Suddenly, he looked up and to the side as if he’d heard something, and jumped to his feet in front of me.

“Look out!” He yelped, throwing his arms out in front of me, crouched slightly. I peered around him but couldn’t see anything. “There’s wild creatures around the tall grass!” he continued in a stage whisper. The wording made me start.

“You mean like Pokémon?” I questioned curiously, playing along.

He turned to look at me quizzically over his shoulder, still crouched protectively in front of me. “What’s a poka mon?”

“You don’t know what Pokemon is?”

“No?” his gaze flickered between me and the empty space where a supposed ‘wild creature’ was. “Is it dangerous?”

I laughed, and quickly filled him in. He seemed to forget all about his own wild creatures as I told him about the different types of Pokemon. “They sound top!” he squealed. “Much better than dangerous creatures.”

Over the next few minutes we collected different supplies, and I slowly got into the game a bit more. Soon, gunpowder (dirt from the garden beds), healing potions (crushed leaves and flowers), and more extreme ammunition (the few larger rocks that we could dig up) surrounded the tree, organised carefully. It’d been a while since I’d played pretend games like this – mainly it was video games with my brother or different ball games or bike riding with my friends – and with this boy’s contagious excitement, I was having more fun than I’d thought possible.

“You know what we need?” he said thoughtfully, looking over our base. He looked up and his eyes were shining. “Swords.”

“Why swords?” I asked, inspecting my hands. There was dirt under my fingernails from digging up the rocks.

“Because! We’ll have to fight the pirates before they join us. That’s how it works.” He sounded so sure and serious that I couldn’t doubt his reasoning.

“Okay. So, swords.” I looked around, and quickly pounced on a fallen branch, snapping off the shorter bits until I had something about my arm length. “What d’you think?”

He nodded, looking around and claiming his own weapon. He flourished it and pointed it at me.

“What’s your name?”

I started. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t actually introduced myself yet. “Michael.”

“No, no, what’s your Sky Pilot’s name?”

I thought for a moment. “Captain… Mogar?”

He grinned and nodded, tapping each of my shoulders with his sword-stick. “Sir Captain Mogar of the Imperial Sky-ships.” He said dramatically, and dropped his arm. "Now me."

I smiled back and raised my own stick. “What's your name?”

“Admirable Nice Dynamite.”

A snicker escaped me, but I raised my own sword dutifully, and repeated his name as he giggled back at me. “Sir Admirable Nice Dynamite of the Imperial Sky-ships.”

 

{}

  

I woke up to my mother gently shaking me, confusion plain in her voice.

“Were you sleepwalking, Mikey?”

I opened my eyes at that, looking around. It was morning, and I was still under the base tree, curled up on the grass, the collection of stones and flowers and sticks scattered around me, unnoticeable unless you knew to look for them.

“You’re filthy.” My mother continued, and picked me up. I didn’t protest, even though I usually said I was too old to be carried. “Were you playing last night?

“Imperial Sky-ships…” I murmured, yawning.

She let out a soft laugh, carrying me back to the house. When my siblings and father asked why I was outside, my mother told them I’d probably been sleepwalking, just dreaming and wandering. I’d have to keep my window closed more at night so I didn’t wander too far.

I didn’t bother to correct them. To tell them that last night two Sky Pilots had successfully conquered all of the pirate Sky bases and commanded the most powerful fleet the world had seen. Between Sir Captain Mogar and Sir Admirable Nice Dynamite, nothing was the limit.

It was a nice dream.

 


	3. Chapter Two

 

 

**_When I was thirteen, I was sure he wasn’t real…_ **

 

I was so bored.

The barbeque had been fun for the first few hours, seeing relatives, taking my pick from the makeshift buffet we ended up with, courtesy of everyone bringing a dish, and lighting the bonfire. My little cousins were fun to play with, but I didn’t think I could take another game of ‘let’s dress up and marry everyone to everyone else including the stuffed toys’. My brother and older cousins and I had gone inside to play Halo, but we were called out to interact by my parents. This was family time, not video game time.

I’d got sick of standing in a circle of adults talking about politics or sports or whatever while I nodded along, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to be polite. It was late enough that my younger relatives had been herded inside to go to bed. I was stuck hovering, not old enough to drink – like almost all of the adults and older teenagers were doing now – or care about the topics of conversation. After excusing myself under the pretence of getting a second helping of food, I’d slipped off into the outskirts of the backyard, well away from everyone else and sat down beneath one of the trees right next to the fence.

The bonfire had simmered down to just a few logs and coals, and an abundance of paper napkins and dead sparklers. I watched the embers and considered just going to bed, though I wasn’t yet tired.

“Michael!”

I snapped my gaze away from the fire at my name, looking up and around wildly. I didn’t think anyone had followed me to the trees, and a glance back at the crowd of relatives confirmed that no one was looking at me.

“Psst, over here, you donut.” There was something about that voice, the weird accent that reminded me of some of the old films my parents sometimes watched. I turned around, peering into the shadows, and finally caught sight of a grinning face framed with gravity-defying hair.

I blinked, unsure. Had I fallen asleep? I absently pinched at my arm, hissing at the pain, but no, not waking up.

He walked over and sat down beside me, smiling. It was the same smile.

“Michael? Don’t you recognise me?” he teased. And yeah, I definitely remembered that voice.

My eyes narrowed. “You-”

“Oh my god your voice! You’re voice is so low!” he squealed and clapped his hands once, laughing slightly. “How old are you now?” he asked excitedly.

I cleared my voice subconsciously, making sure it didn’t crack when I answered automatically. “Thirteen.”

“Brilliant! So how come your hiding in the shadows?”

I scoffed. “Like you can talk.” I glanced back at the adults. “I’m kinda just hanging out. I was gonna go to bed, actually.”

“What? Already?” he sounded disappointed, following my gaze over to the backyard barbeque, but then his face lit up again. “Hey, if you’re bored, I can show you how to walk on fire.”

I had to double check to make sure I hadn’t misheard him. He just chuckled, and began untying his shoes. They were olive green with bright white laces, reaching up his ankles, and I stared as he practically shoved them in my face.

“Put them on!”

“They probably won’t fit…” I protested, trying to shove them away, wrinkling my nose.

“Just try!”

He grabbed at my foot, and before I could protest he was pulling off my old sandshoe, slipping his own over my sock covered foot and long fingers weaving the laces together in an elaborate bow. He moved to do the other, but I quickly grabbed it out of his hands, rolling my eyes and pulling it on myself. He was quick to repeat the strange knot with the laces, tongue between his teeth.

Surprisingly, they fit better than most of my own shoes. I was at that awkward stage where I grew out of almost everything every couple of months, so most of my shoes were either too small or too big, for me to grow into.

“There we are.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. I pushed myself up as well, and noted with a grimace that he was taller than me.

“So what?” I prompted. “I just walk on the fire or something?”

A slow Cheshire grin spread across his face. “That’s it.”

When I didn’t move, he puffed out his cheeks at me. “Don’t you believe me?”

I wasn’t sure what to think. Somehow, I felt like I was dreaming, and yet everything was ultra real. When I was ten, it hadn’t felt so unbelievable, this kid who showed up in my room one night. But in the three years without seeing him, I’d forgotten him, and it had become something between a memory and the memory of a dream. Until he showed up and it all came flooding back, vivid and real.

It wasn’t a question of believing him, but believing  _in_  him. If I’d forgotten him, how could he be here, so real, so tangible?

How could I believe he was real?

“Michael?”

I snapped back to reality, my eyes focusing on him once more as he peered at my face in the shadows. I glanced down at our feet, mine in his shoes, and his bare toes in the grass.

If this was a dream, it didn’t matter.

“Yeah, sure.” I looked back up at him. “But if you’re pulling my leg, you owe me a hundred bucks. Deal?”

He bit his bottom lip as he grinned, holding out his hand to me. I took it and we shook. “Deal.” He agreed. “But you won’t burn, I promise.”

I dropped his hand, shaking my head at his cocky grin, and walked towards the dying bonfire. When I could feel the heat on my face, I stopped, barely a foot from the outermost coals, and looked back. I could just make him out, hands in his jeans pockets and that smile still on his face as he watched me. Though he probably wouldn’t be able to see it, I raised my eyebrows at him. Turned back to the fire.

And stepped onto the coals.

For a moment I waited, riding a weird high that I tended to get in dreams or when playing video games, that feeling of invincibility that came with the knowledge that this wasn’t real, that I would wake up or quit the game.

Neither happened.

I took another step. Lifted one foot to look at the sole of the shoe.

It looked completely untouched, not even a smudge of coal on the white rubber. And the shoes definitely weren’t melting or burning or anything. My feet weren’t scorched, and though I was hot, it was no different to when I had been standing at the edge of the fire. It was actually pleasantly warm.

There was one spot near the centre of the bonfire that was still flaming. I straightened my shoulders and walked to it, watching fascinated and ecstatic as I crossed the fire, burning twigs snapping and sparking under my feet. I was walking on fire.  _I was walking on fire._

Someone screamed.

The abrupt shrillness shocked me, and I belatedly realised it was my name that was being yelled, and I jumped backwards automatically, tripping on a white-hot log, and falling. Everything was moving incredibly slowly and incredibly fast, the heat rushing up around me, blurred faces on the edges of my vision, and the lurching in my chest as the ground rushed up to meet me.

I hit the cold grass.

My mother was by me in an instant, followed by aunts and uncles and my grandma, all talking too fast for me to hear. The thumping of my own heart in my head drowned their voices out to a dull monotone. I’d almost fallen in. I was sure I was further across the bonfire when I’d tripped, too far to fall onto the grass, had been  _certain_  of it.

But I wasn’t burned.

Someone was pulling me up by my arm, another was pushing me back down by the shoulder, urgent worried voices, but I craned my neck, looking behind me, to the shadows in the trees.

No one there. I looked again and again, slowly scouring the area with my eyes, but I was positive. It was empty, and I was hauled to my feet.

My father was scolding me, stress and worry evident in the way his voice cracked slightly, like mine did when my emotions ran high, and my mother was still clutching one of my arms. I was being hurried inside, and I heard her asking me if I was burnt, if I was hurt.

“M’fine.” I told her softly.

 _I walked on fire_.

I looked down when we got under the bright kitchen lights. My clothes were grimy from falling, a light dusting of ash and grass on the hems of my jeans.

The shoes were spotless.

 


	4. Chapter Three

**_It was the third time I saw him I began to think he wasn’t human…_ **

 

The first punch was so unexpected that I didn’t even try to duck, to move out of the way, and though the knuckles connecting with my jaw lacked proper power behind them, it was enough to clack my teeth together, unfortunately with my lip between them.

“Fuck!” I swore, jumping back, a hand flying to my mouth. Sure enough, when it came away there was a smear of red just visible in the flickering streetlight.

“Who taught you that fucking language?” the gruff voice made me look up, just in time to duck properly to miss the second swing aimed at me. I’d lost my glasses in the first hit and though I could see well enough without them, I was panicking, hoping they weren’t broken.

“Fuck off!” I growled out, quickly scanning my surroundings for an out. The narrow side street I’d turned down to take a shortcut home was deserted, bar the gang of four half-wits currently advancing on me. Granted, it was kinda my fault that I’d pissed them off.

Around the corner was a movie theatre, and though for the entirety of the movie things had been going well – if wracked with nerves on my part – as soon as we’d got outside and I’d offered to walk her home, she’d given me the spiel. The classic, I just want to be friends, don’t really feel that way about you, gave you a chance with the movie, but it didn’t work. I wasn’t too cut up about it really, I was more disappointed than anything, and agreed to remaining friends. But then while we were waiting for her folks to pick her up, because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, I’d let her know that if I’d known it was my only chance I’d have made more of an effort, and she’d just left. So I’d turned for home.

I’d been so intent on watching my feet, wallowing in my own failure, that I’d made the mistake of knocking shoulders with one of the group walking down the same street.

And these dickheads were going to make me pay for it.

“No way to talk to your superiors, kid.” One of them said, inching around the side of me. They were trying to enclose me in a circle and I quickly backed up to the brick wall, no small amount of fear causing me to focus more on not letting them surround me instead of trying to get away. “Gonna have to teach you to be more careful.”

They were big, and though I could hold my own in a fight – thanks to many a wrestling match with my older brother – I didn’t like my chances here. I swallowed, the metallic tang of blood from my lip turning my stomach.

“Look, I’m sorry I bumped you, alright?” I said quickly, trying not to sound like I was pleading. That out of anything would probably just make things worse. There’s nothing more pathetic than a guy who wimps out of a fight and begs, at least in these types of guys eyes. “No need to waste your knuckles on me.”

I could barely see their faces, thank you busted out streetlight, but I could tell the one directly in front of me was smiling, and what a smile it was. Worthy of the big bad wolf, which unfortunately, made me the kid who got eaten for crying about it. Not that I was crying, I was just mixing metaphors to take my mind away from my impending doom.

Speaking of.

One of the thugs on my side lunged abruptly, shoving me away from the wall, and I flinched, trying not to fall, just to get a rough fist to the stomach. I choked for air, the shock making me scrunch my eyes shut, and I heard the laughter as another hit to my shoulder made me lose balance and topple. When I hit the ground, the hard cement sending a shot of pain through my shoulder and a thudding through the back of my head, I curled up, prepared to wait it out and maybe play dead. If they thought they’d killed me at least they’d leave, and maybe even have a guilty conscience for all of two seconds.

But nothing else hit me, despite the fact that I could hear scuffling, and shouts, and I opened my eyes, trying to focus on what they were saying. My vision swam; all I could see was the four sets of feet moving erratically not too far from me, but they weren’t coming towards me, and I realised there was a fifth set of legs, bare feet poking out from under the scraggly hemmed jeans.

“Man what the fuck is this kid?” The guy actually sounded surprised, and a swift grunt followed by a cry of pain made me struggle to look up. My lungs were still struggling for air after being winded, my body still curled in on itself as a defence.

“Calm down!  _Fucker_!” Fear. That was legit fear in their voices, and a small part of me wondered what kind of boss was coming after them, who could hold their own in a gang fight. I saw a body hit the ground, scramble up again, and then four sets of feet were running, pelting away down the street.

There were hands pulling me up, carefully avoiding my throbbing shoulder, and then something was thrust in my face, reflecting the erratic light from the streetlight. My glasses. They were relatively undamaged, apart from a small crack in one lens, and I took them carefully, looking up and feeling my breath catch in my throat.

“Are you okay?” Concerned wide eyes looked back at me, eyebrows furrowed, flyaway hair framing his face.

No way. There was no way.

“Shit, I’m hallucinating.” My lip felt slightly numb. But I couldn’t stop staring. “Did I pass out?”

He looked surprised for a second. “I dunno, did you? You were on the ground for a while.” His voice was deeper than I remembered, but the accent was the same.

I shook my head, stowing my glasses away in my jacket pocket. “I didn’t think I did. But I must have. Fuck, I wonder how bad they’re beating me up right now. Fuck!” I stepped away, hands going to my head in frustration.

“What d’you mean right now?” I turned back to him, noticing him wince slightly at the glare on my face. “I… they’ve gone.” He said confused, indicating the direction the gang had run.

I dropped my hands, staring up at the streetlight and letting myself take a breath before scrutinising him again.

It was definitely him, I’d recognise that nose anywhere. And his hair, and those eyes, and the pointy face, though he’d filled out more. The deeper voice was the biggest difference. That, and the fact that he seemed to have grown taller again; he was now almost a head taller than me, and his slightly too small clothes made him look taller. He shifted his weight, wary expression on his face, and I mentally shook myself. He was waiting for me to say something, but all I could think was how absurdly happy I was to see him, how much I owed him for saving me, how much I’d missed him.

“Why do you have bare feet?” I asked finally, gaze flicking down to the hem of his jeans.

And he laughed, a grin spreading over his face. “Because you’ve still got my shoes.”

 

 

{}

 

 

We ended up at the park a block away from the movie theatre. I didn’t want to go home yet, didn’t want to have to answer all the questions that would come from seeing me so messed up. At least my head and shoulder weren’t hurting so much anymore.

He’d made a beeline for the swings, and I’d followed, caught up in his enthusiasm, just sitting still on mine as he tried to swing higher than the support bar. After a minute he gave up, and let himself slow to a gentle swing beside me, toes trailing in the woodchip, eyes trained on me.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, nodding to my split lip.

I put a hand to it automatically, shrugging. “Not really, just a bit numb. Sick of the taste of blood though.”

He grimaced at that, shuddering slightly. Then he reached over with one hand and hesitated, silently asking. I nodded and dropped my hand from my face, holding still as he touched a finger carefully to the split, his eyes trained on my lips.

It was strange, feeling so comfortable with the contact, almost sibling-like. Although, I thought, I probably wouldn’t let my brothers do this. Mainly because they’d only try and make me flinch by poking too hard like they did anytime I had a bruise.

I was shaken from my musing when he pressed his finger a little harder and a jolt ran through my body, though not because it had hurt. My lips were tingling where his finger touched; it felt like a static charge, not unpleasant. I resisted the sudden urge to lean forward into the touch, trying to look anywhere but at him, because the way he was staring so unblinkingly at my mouth was making my heart thud and my ears grow warm. The tingling sensation sparked suddenly, and then he took his hand away, smiling and leaning out of my space again. I ran my tongue over my lip, eyes widening as I realised I couldn’t feel the cut anymore, nor taste the leftover blood. He just grinned when I shot him a questioning look.

“Any other boo-boos?” he queried cheekily, wiggling his fingers. I shoved him lightly, making his swing bounce away and back into mine. He chuckled. “So did you keep my shoes?”

I nodded, and told him about how I’d been banned from getting within three feet of any fire for a while after. He laughed, nodding.

“I watched you do it.” He said, eyes glinting. “I told you you’d be fine.”

“Better than fine, I was walking on freaking hot coals like some kinda circus performer! Wish they still fit me, though, they’re just sitting in my cupboard.” I lamented, looking down at my feet.

He hummed in agreement. “You’ve grown.”

I laughed at that. “You’re still taller than me.”

We lapsed into silence, and I began pushing myself back and forth on the swing. I hadn’t asked how he’d managed to beat the four guys by himself. He may have been tall, but he was still pretty lanky, and looking at his hands I couldn’t imagine him throwing a punch. Healing a bust lip with just a touch though, that for some strange reason made sense. It fit him better.

“Hey,” I said abruptly, a thought hitting me. “I don’t know your name.”

He looked at me and blinked a few times, and then nodded. “True.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well I can’t call you Sir Admiral Dynamite or whatever.”

“It was  _Admirable_  Nice Dynamite, actually.” He chuckled, but didn’t continue, choosing to just look at me, eyes shifting between mine.

“So?” I prompted, raising my eyebrows. “What’s your name?”

The smile he gave me was brilliant.

“It’s Gavin.”


	5. Chapter Four

 

 

 

 

**_When I was nineteen…_ **

 

I’d like to say I’d completely forgotten about Gavin, that amongst finishing high school and moving to New York, there hadn’t been time to remember him. I’d like to say that it was a surprise when one night, between the time it took me to go to the bathroom and come back out, he was standing in the small living space of my college dorm room.

But I’d be lying if I did.

I could tell it was him, even though he had his back to me, bending over the coffee table where my video games were spread out. It seemed like every time I saw him his hair got more out of control, defying gravity despite the obvious lack of product in it. Jeans as per usual, and a dark jacket, slightly too small for him since I could see his T-shirt poking out the back. At least he had shoes on this time.

“Hey.” I called softly, leaning against the doorframe. He jumped, turning abruptly and straightening, and goddamn it, how had he gotten taller  _again_?

His face split into a wide grin and within the next second he’d crossed the space between us to stand right in front of me. He made a weird jerky motion with his arms, and for a moment I thought he was going to hug me, but instead he just held his hands at his sides, bouncing slightly on his feet.

“Hi Michael.” If he smiled any wider he’d split his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Gavin?” I asked, tilting my head to the side – a habit I’d surely picked up from him- and studying his face. He seemed to have finally grown into his nose – though it was still larger than average – and there was a smattering of light gold scruff on his chin.

He gave a small laugh through his nose, eyes tracing my face just as avidly as I was his. “You seem different.” He said curiously. “You seem… nicer?”

“Fuck off, I’m always nice.”

“That’s better.” He chuckled. “That’s my Michael. So!” He took a step back while I blinked at the ‘ _my’_. “Got any plans for tonight?”

“Uh-”

“Cancel them. I’m taking you Free-running.”

 

 

{}

 

 

I learnt quickly that when Gavin said free-running, he meant turning into fucking Neo from the Matrix, sans the douchebag overcoat and sunglasses.

After raiding my closet and throwing a sweater at me, he’d pulled me out of my dorm and up the fire escape stairs to the roof, walked me right to the edge, and jumped.

That wasn’t such a big deal; it was only about four-foot drop to the next building’s roof, and somehow I managed to not pull anything as I landed next to Gavin. The big deal was when he’d pointed to the main lecture building’s roof – an eight-foot gap of open air between our roof and the next.

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m jumping that.” I’d said incredulously. He’d just grinned at me.

“You believed me when I told you that you could walk on fire.” He reminded me, standing way too close to the edge for my liking.

“Yeah, but there’s a big difference between possibly getting hot feet and almost certainly breaking my legs when I hit the concrete ground. A  _big_  difference, Gavin.”

He’d rolled his eyes, turned around, backed up a couple of steps and before I could so much as yell, he’d run full pelt at the edge, launching off one foot. And I just stared. His height was definitely an advantage as he stretched out, curled up mid jump in a tumble, and unfolded to land silently on the lecture theatre’s roof, graceful as anything. He turned to smile at me, and then proceeded to do the same thing back again, skipping to my side.

Infuriatingly, he gently ruffled my hair, chuckling when I pulled away with a grimace. He leant down a bit, so his mouth was level with my ear, and whispered, “Just trust me.”

“Aren’t you meant to offer me a blue and red pill?” I’d deadpanned in return. He laughed, but looked a bit confused.

 _This is stupid_ , was the last thing I thought before I took a breath, silently bidding goodbye to my friends and family, and running at the edge, trying to copy Gavin’s jump – bar the tricky somersault – and miraculously, within seconds, the lecture theatre roof was rushing up to meet me. I landed, bending my legs at the impact, and heard Gavin land next to me, a hand already on my shoulder.

“Told you.”

 I flicked him the middle finger, and he laughed. I couldn’t help but smile back.

 

 

{}

 

 

I got a bit bolder as we made our way through the city, mainly keeping to the rooftops, but dropping down to fire escapes and crossing alleyways when we needed to. Gavin never seemed to get tired, and I was sure he repelled gravity or something, the way he moved so flawlessly. There were a couple of times I almost fell badly after long or high jumps, and I was sure I twisted an ankle, but Gavin had been at my side instantly, his hand touching briefly at the sore spot, and the pain had vanished.

Finally, he stopped us near a taller apartment block, closer to the city centre, and I’d followed him up until we were on the roof, looking out over the city. The stream of headlights from the freeway rushed by almost right next to us, and I could see the flashing red and blue of a cop car in the distance, circling the main road where the bar goers frequented. Someone in the apartment was playing a mix of Daft Punk and classical music, the notes drifting up and mingling together, so muffled that I couldn’t hear the words. It felt surreal.

Gavin sat down on the edge, on the low brick wall that separated the open sky from the solid cement roof, legs dangling, and I didn’t even hesitate as I sat down next to him. Up this high there was a fair amount of wind, cold and whipping around us. I let out a breath, hoping it would mist in the air in front of me, but it was either too windy or not cold enough yet.

Sitting here as if it was an everyday occurrence to climb to almost the top of the city made my mind wander to how easy it was to fall into a pattern with someone I hardly saw. It was comfortable, the way Gavin and I talked, a familiarity I usually only associated with my family. With a start I realised it wasn’t too far removed, my friendship with him. I’d known him pretty much my whole life, granted in a restricted way, but the brief times I saw him seemed to stick with me over the years between seeing him again. And then there was how I automatically assumed I’d see him again, like we were on a schedule.

I also trusted him completely and without restrictions, hence why I was currently sitting on the edge of the roof up a thirty-something story building.

 “I’d convinced myself you weren’t real, y’know?” I said, turning my head to look at him. He was gazing up at the sky, leant back on his arms, and hummed softly to let me know he was listening.

“I thought you were like some psychotic split personality deal, like in  _Fight Club_. An imaginary friend I dreamt up and then couldn’t get rid of.”

He chuckled. “Why would you want to get rid of me?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t. You’re way too enthusiastic about everything, you’re so perpetually happy it’s annoying, and the things you can do… you’re not possible.” I followed his gaze to the sky. The orange glow from the city cut out most of the stars, but the moon was there, bright enough to cut through the night. “It feels like you’re not real.” I murmured.

Gavin grinned, nudging my shoulder with his own. “But I’m right here, Michael.”

“Yeah, but you always disappear so abruptly. One minute you’re there, the next you just vanish. Even now,” I gave him a look. “It’s like I’m dreaming, I’m not sure whether if I take my eyes off you for just a second you won’t just disappear.”

“Sounds to me like you actually like my company.”

I laughed. “Believe me, if I didn’t like your company, I would’ve told you to get lost a long time ago.”

Gavin smirked. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

I poked him in the ribs and he squawked, batting his hands around uselessly. It looked like he was trying to get rid of a swarm of invisible bugs, and when I reached for him again he made that same warbling sound, swatting his hands at mine.

“No, you’re right.” I laughed. “I wouldn’t want to get rid of you. If only for the entertainment value.”

He shrugged, hands still half raised to defend himself in case I launched another attack. “Good enough reason for me to stick around.”

“Yeah, about that,” I started, frowning slightly. “You don’t exactly stick around, do you? I’ve seen you all of four times my whole life. What’s the deal with that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, where do you go off to?” I prodded. “You show up once every three years. Where do you go when you’re not bugging me?”

Gavin looked at me thoughtfully. His eyes were scrunched up, but he seemed to be looking at something beyond me, and he brought a hand up to run through his hair abstractedly. Then he blinked, his eyes refocused, and he dropped his hand. “My world.” He said.

“Huh?”

He pursed his lips, brow furrowed, and looked back over the city. “There are a lot of us, probably more than anyone knows about. I don’t think they all get attached like I do.”

I ignored that last statement. “What do you mean ‘us’? Who’s us?”

“World Skippers. People from my world who Skip over into yours. Mostly for fun, just to prove it can be done, but it’s also a nice way to spend a night out. My world is like your world’s twin. A parallel, connected in small ways.” He looked back at me, smiling slightly at the puzzled look on my face. “We share the same moon. Our worlds. It’s the strongest connection that between them. And there’s a- a rift, I suppose you could call it, like a thin veil, and so when the moon’s out, the connection grows stronger and the rift gets weaker, and it allows us to just Skip over, travel between the two worlds. Don’t ask me to explain how it works, I just know the basics.”

I just looked at him. He was speaking so calmly, but it felt like he was describing a sci-fi movie.

“But that-” I broke off, and changed tack. “Why every three years? Why don’t you ‘just skip over’ more often?”

Gavin’s eyes widened, and he looked down, fiddling with his sleeves. “Do you want me to come see you more?” he asked quietly.

I couldn’t help the small bit of heat that rose to my face at his tone, and was briefly glad he wasn’t looking at me. “I wouldn’t mind it.” I said nonchalantly.

Neither of us spoke for a minute, well aware of the strangely heavy atmosphere between us.

After a while he cleared his throat but didn’t look up, playing with his fingers, interlocking them together and twisting them in his lap. When he spoke, he almost sounding like he was reciting from a textbook. “Time doesn’t move the same way in my world. Three years for you is only three weeks for me. So technically, from my point of view, I’ve only known you for about three months.” He held up a hand as I opened my mouth to protest, to say he couldn’t have only known me such a short time, I’d watched him grow up at the same rate as me. It was like he could read my mind, or at least predict what I wanted to say, as he continued.

“There’s another difference. Our life spans are shorter than yours, that’s why we age so quickly. I’ve been visiting you almost every three weeks since I was born. If I’d Skipped over during the first week of my life to your world, you’d have been about…” he thought for a moment. “Four, I think. I was three weeks old when I first met you, about nine years equivalent in your world.”

He broke off after glancing at me, concern in his eyes and I wondered if my disbelief was showing on my face. I waited, but he kept silent, watching his hands, and I realised he was waiting for me to say something. To tell him whether I believed him or not, I assumed.

I didn’t know what to say.

When he’d first started telling me this, I’d half thought he was joking. But it made sense he was, well, basically an alien, what with the things he could do. I’d told him that I had thought he wasn’t real for most of my childhood, but now… What he was telling me, how did I know it wasn’t true? Stranger things had happened. Like having shoes that let you walk on fire, or a literal healing touch, or being able to defy gravity like someone out of the Matrix.

I could believe he was here, that he was real, more than just a figment of my imagination, and that he could somehow manage to find me again and again. How hard was it to believe he was something more?

So I found myself asking. “How long do you live?”

Gavin finally looked at me, taking in my expression before he answered. “One year. That’s the average life span. We measure our age in weeks, so I’d live to be about fifty-two, maybe fifty-five. If I keep coming to see you once every three weeks, that’s maybe twenty-five visits over both of our lives. Twenty, after tonight.”

My stomach was twisting uncomfortably, clenching and unclenching, and my shock must have shown on my face, because Gavin placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered, squeezing. “It’s okay, Michael.” He hesitated, and then added in a falsely cheery voice. “I’m pretty much promising that we’re going to be hanging out when we’re both old and senile. Friends for life! That’s good, right?”

I couldn’t speak when I first opened my mouth and had to clear my throat before starting again. My voice came out croaky. “Why… why don’t you visit more often then? Why every three- why just once every three weeks? Seems a bit unfair.”

He smiled, but it was lacking. “Rules.” He said grudgingly. “It’s dangerous to Skip worlds, so they place a limit on how often you can do it. They say it can destroy your mind.”

I choked out a humourless laugh. “Hate to say it, but I think it’s a bit late for you.”

He chuckled, a sour tinge to his expression. “It sucks royal bollocks.”

“Yeah.” I agreed, and our conversation trailed off.

He left his hand on my shoulder, and after a minute started drawing patterns down my arm, over my sweater. When he reached my hand, he touched each of the knuckles once and then withdrew his hand, shoving it into his jacket pocket.

We both startled when an alarm went off, on the street below, and peered over the edge of the building, watching the orange lights on a car flashing several times before a small figure ran out and the sound cut off.

“Gavin.”

I heard him shift to look at me. “Mmm?”

“Don’t just disappear this time.” I looked up and met his eyes, giving him a small smile. “I want to see this so called Skipping.”

He grinned back at me and nodded, standing up and holding out a hand. I grabbed it and he hauled me to my feet.

 

 

{}

 

 

We stopped on the roof of my college apartment, checking the door to the stairs was unlocked so I didn’t get stuck on the roof till morning. He stood back from me, a five-foot radius of space around him, and made a joking display of stretching and warming up.

“Ready to watch the magic?” he asked, smiling as he bounced on his feet.

I shrugged. “Sure.” The excitement in my voice countered my offhand attitude, and he chuckled once.

“Okay…” He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in, and when he opened them he looked right at me. He hesitated, biting at the inside of his cheek, and quirked a corner of his mouth. “See you later.”

I nodded. His gaze lingered on me, and I struggled for a second. When he finally dropped his eyes, straightening his back, I quickly called out. “Gavin?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Why did you choose to… why me?” I asked haltingly, blurting out what I’d been meaning to ask since I was thirteen, painfully aware of how damn clichéd it was. “When we first met, why’d you choose me?”

He laughed, loud and joyful, and grinned widely at me. “Because no one else had left their window open.” He replied warmly.

I let out a huff of air, something loosening in my chest that I hadn’t realised was so tight before, and glanced around before letting my eyes slide back to him, nodding and smiling.

“And Michael?”

My smile widened. “Yeah?”

“I came back because I liked you.”

He turned, spinning on one foot, and he seemed to stretch, warp, like the mirrors in a funhouse, the air around him distorting and cracking. There was a brief flash of light, like sunlight shooting through cracks in floorboards, and he was gone, the space where he’d been stretching out again, settling, and finally falling still.

 


	6. Chapter Five

 

**_When I was twenty-two, the sun had barely gone down…_ **

 

I stripped out of my work clothes as soon as I was in the door of my apartment, thrown a frozen pizza in the microwave and jumped in the shower. It was hot, but I needed to turn up the heat of the water to get the sweat and grease out of my skin, not to mention the sharpie notes littering my forearms. Recently, I’d got into the bad habit of jotting down reminders and calculations on my skin. I really needed a new notebook.

Towel wrapped around my waist, and skin rubbed raw, I cranked the AC and flopped down with my pizza on the couch, content to while away the evening with some bad TV.

I’ve never been sure if he has the best or worst timing.

He chose to materialise right in front of me, the TV blinking with static for a second before the air warped and he was standing in front of it, hands on hips and grinning down at me.

I jumped and swore, thankful that my last piece of pizza hadn’t slipped off the plate. I didn’t need to take another shower.

He let out a small chuckle at my reaction, but broke off halfway, blinking surprised.

We seemed to realise I was still practically naked apart from a towel at the same time, and I might have been a bit taken aback had he not let out a little surprised noise and looked so startled that I wondered if he’d had a mini stroke. Instead, the mutual surprise and the wide-eyed look on his face made me burst into laughter, and I bent double, holding my stomach and wheezing.

He chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, hi Michael, bad timing?”

I shook my head, unable to speak, and put my plate down on the coffee table before standing. My stomach was hurting a bit from laughing so hard after eating, but I was a bit more preoccupied with keeping a hand on my towel to care. I waved my hand at him, still laughing, and turned to go towards my bedroom, hoping he’d get the gist.

By the time I’d finished throwing on some shorts and a T-shirt, I’d managed to rein in my laughter, and re-entered the living room with a smile on my face.

I noticed in the time I’d been gone he’d finished off my final slice of pizza.

He looked up when I walked in, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before grinning. “Hi Michael.” He said again.

“Hey Gavin.”

His eyes travelled over my appearance, and I took the time to look at him properly as well. His hair had gotten shaggy, and his clothes matched it, jeans with a rip in one knee and a slightly too big shirt. He’d forgone shoes again, so I assumed he hadn’t planned any midnight trips out this time.

“Did you get a hair cut?” Gavin asked, curious, wandering closer. I shrugged as he reached a hand out to tug on my short hair.

“It’s been hot here.” I replied simply. “Summer, you know. Obviously not on your world.” I added, nodding to his own hair.

He cocked his head to one side. “Summer?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, Summer. You know, longer days, hotter sun…”

Gavin’s eyes lit up as I trailed off. “Your sun gets hotter?”

“Yeah, for about three months, then it gets colder again during Winter. Well, the sun doesn’t physically  _get_  hotter, it’s just further away from the Earth or something.” I explained, watching bemusedly as his eyes got wider. “Don’t you have seasons on your world?”

He shook his head.

“What, it just stays the same all the time, all year round?” I asked incredulously.

Gavin paused, his smile faded, and he just looked at me. “I don’t know.”

For a moment, I was confused, but then our conversation from last time hit me, and I realised that even if there were seasons on his world, he’d only get to see them once.

_One year, one life._

“Sorry.” I said badly, guilt creeping up my spine. “I forgot.”

He shrugged, a grimace pulling at his mouth, and then his bright smile was back. “Ah, don’t worry about it,” He waved a hand, and added with a smirk. “I forget that you’re practically a grumpy old man compared to me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks, Gav.”

Gavin stuck his tongue between his teeth and leant back, eyes scanning me again. “I have to say,” His eyes met mine. “You’re looking good for your age, Grampa-  _Ah!_  Michael-!”

I didn’t bother replying, just tackled him to the floor, rolling him over as he flailed until I had him pinned, holding his wrists at bay. Somehow, he managed to get a leg up, and was poking at my ribs with his foot, giggling when I tried to flinch away. Moving lost me my hold, and he scrambled up, winding his legs around mine and grabbing at my hands, and I found myself pinned on my back, Gavin grinning down at me triumphantly. I looked back calmly.

“Say it again.” His eyebrows shot up, but I continued, voice neutral. “Fucking say it again. I  _dare_  you.”

His grin grew, and I tensed, waiting, as he opened his mouth. “Gramp-”

I flipped him, breaking his loose hold, and pulled an arm under his chin, my hand holding his wrist. His back was pressed to my chest, my back to the floor, legs still entwined and his free hand grappling at my arm. He was letting out little warbling sounds, trying to roll off, so I moved my hand up to his mouth, silencing him, and letting him shift us until we were on our sides, using my weight to keep him pinned.

“You wanna say that again, Gavin?” I was laughing, but tried to put some growl into my voice. “Or do you take it back?”

He licked my hand, and I jerked it back from his mouth, smearing it over his face against his protests, but he was laughing too, breathlessly puffing.

“Sorry, sorry! I take it back! Michael,  _please_ -!”

“Damn right you do.” I murmured, and finally released my hold on him.

Gavin rolled away, just enough till he was on his back beside me, and pulled his shirt hem up to use it to wipe at his face. He was still chuckling weakly, looking at me from the corner of his eye. I smiled once back at him before sitting up and offering him a hand.

“Want a drink?” I asked, and he grabbed my hand and let me haul him to his feet.

“Top.”

 

 

{}

 

 

We ended up on the balcony in two old armchairs that I was supposed to be ‘just holding’ for a friend, but had been a permanent fixture since I first moved in to my apartment, beers in hand. Gavin had his long legs up on the railing, somehow balancing the armchair back on its hind legs without tipping, and listening as I told him about my years at university, my new job, and the game videos I was putting up online.

“They’re just me getting mad at the stupid goddamn games, but for some reason people lap it up. I dunno, it’s fun, and YouTube sends me a check every now and then…” I trailed off, glancing over at him.

His eyes were half-closed, and he was staring upwards, leaning heavily back in his chair, and I followed his line of sight. The moon. It was a clear night, and even with the light from the city I could make out a few stars if I squinted.

“Look,” Gavin murmured, pointing over to the left of the moon, where a small cluster of stars were just visible. “The scales. Everything’s reversed here, like a mirror image to back home.”

He let the chair fall back onto all four legs abruptly, swinging his legs down and standing up to lean over the railing, craning his neck.

“Michael, come look.”

I sighed, and put my bottle down beside my chair, joining him at the rail. He was pointing almost to the top of the apartment complex, and I could make out another bright point of light. I opened my mouth to ask, but then the light swept away, and I caught the sound of the helicopter, and burst out laughing.

“You dumbass.”

Gavin’s face was priceless, staring up with his eyebrows pulled down and confusion written all over his face. He side-eyed me, and his lips quirked up. “Oops.”

He stretched his arms up, and I leant back as he almost clocked me in the face, but then stopped, frowned. Something felt off, and it wasn’t until I cast my eyes around that I noticed my solitary shadow falling on the wall behind me, thrown from the moonlight and the city light, and realised.

Gavin didn’t have a shadow.

It didn’t take him long to look round as I stared, and reached out a hand slowly until my fingers made contact with his shoulder. My shadow looked like it was holding its hand up in mid air. Gavin followed my line of sight, and let out a soft ‘ah’.

“You don’t have a shadow.” I noted, pushing lightly on his shoulder, still watching the solitary figure on the wall.

“Nope.”

“You… wanna tell me about that?”

He turned, and settled with his back against the railing, bringing his fist up to his mouth to over-exaggerate clearing his throat. I knocked his shoulder with mine and he laughed softly, looking at my shadow and the empty space beside it.

“Same old story, isn’t it?” he said quietly. “I’m not from this world, I don’t belong here, so I’m not all here.”

“Never doubted that.”

He flashed a grin at me. “Cheers.” Gavin looked up, craning his neck a bit to look at the moon, now almost directly overhead.

“That’s actually how most of the ideas about life after death came about.” He mused, still gazing skyward. “The whole concept of another world that you go to when you die, that you’re reborn, belonging to a different world. This world could be my world’s heaven, basically,” He looked sideways at me, and I saw the teasing glint in his eye. “Or maybe my world is heaven, and that’s where you lot from this world end up. And me coming back like this, makes me a ghost.”

I looked him over once, deliberately, nodding thoughtfully. “So does that mean you’re haunting me?”

He laughed, turned till he was facing me, one arm resting on the rail. “Mayyybe.” He drew out, smirk pulling at his lips.

“Makes sense.” I said, mimicking his pose. “Gavin the friendly ghost.”

“Michael the ghost whisperer.” He paused, and then his smile grew cheeky. “The ghost  _shouter_.”

“Who you gonna call…” I murmured, leaning heavily on the rail.

“Wha?”

I laughed. “Oh man, we are  _so_ watching  _GhostBusters_.” I grabbed his arm. “Come on.”

 

 

{}

 

 

Hours later, I jolted awake. The DVD menu screen for the  _GhostBusters_  movie was playing on repeat on the TV, the only light in the living room as I struggled upright on the couch, squinting at the time.

Almost three in the morning.

I yawned, glancing around. The blanket that I usually kept over the back of the couch was draped over me, and our empty bottles were grouped together on the coffee table, but the rest of the apartment was quiet. Tiredly, I stood, cracking my back, and walked slowly around the rooms, listening to the theme music play on in the background.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that Gavin had gone, probably after I’d fallen asleep during the movie. The last thing I remember was the two of us squashed together on the couch, drinks in hand as he squealed at the final battle scene with the giant marshmallow man, and then sweet oblivion. And the comforting warmth of Gavin pressed against my side.

I rubbed at my eyes, scanning the coffee table one last time, not entirely sure what I was looking for. A note, maybe. Though there was no reason for there to be one, he’d never exactly left me one before. And I  _had_  fallen asleep barely halfway through the night, similar to when I first met him.

Another yawn escaped me, so, swaying on my feet, I switched off the TV, sending the apartment into darkness, and stumbled back to my bedroom. I sprawled on top of the covers, a mix of the  _GhostBusters_  theme tune and Gavin’s giggles playing in my head as I fell asleep.

 


	7. Chapter Six

 

**_Three years later…_ **

 

He was late.

In the first half of the year, I kept an eye out, not quite expecting him yet. By August, I’d made sure that I didn’t stay out late at night. By October, I hardly left when the sun went down; I’d begun staying up later and later, sure to leave the kitchen light on in my apartment.

The lack of interaction, long nights of waiting, slowly becoming an insomniac, and the self-inflicted isolation gave me plenty of time to reflect.

And I started to wonder.

Looking back over my interactions with Gavin, I thought about the way it had always felt like I was dreaming, right from the start. No one else had ever seen him that I knew of, and he always managed to time it when I was by myself, or at least separate from other people. But I knew he was real, I  _knew_  it, I’d seen it, I’d felt it, and though I couldn’t explain exactly how he was here, he was.

Still, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, like something out of Peter Pan, I’d grown up too much. All my teenage years had been one amazing trip into magic, make-believe. Now I was well and truly an adult, I couldn’t go back to Neverland. Or rather, Peter Pan wouldn’t come to visit me anymore.

It was a dumb thought, but it stuck.

It had stuck in my mind for the three years that he was gone. And as mid December rolled around, I began to wonder if it was going to be four. For the first time since I’d met him, I doubted Gavin would show.

I was set to fly out the next morning, back to New Jersey, back to my old home so I could spend Christmas with my family. Everything was packed and ready, including my games, which left me idly surfing channels, sipping at a beer while I waited for it to be late enough to go to sleep, or try at least.

And so my mind wandered, and as it had been more and more often as the year progressed, it found him. It was like my mind was stuck on a loop of Gavin. Memories, conversations, absence.

There was never a set date, it was completely erratic, but there was a silent understanding between us. Once every three years for me. Once every three weeks for him. It shouldn’t be hard to forget. I scowled at the television. He shouldn’t leave it this late. The year wasn’t over yet, but for some reason I told myself that this was the last night I’d wait before I gave up. Goodbye, Neverland.

He must have read my mind.

“I wanna go out!” Were his first words as he materialised, warped into existence beside the couch. I barely even glanced at him. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe I was just in a bad mood, but for the first time since I’d heard it, his accent annoyed me.

He flopped down on the couch beside me, the movement making me bounce in my seat, and I could feel him staring into the side of my skull but I resolutely kept my gaze focused on the television in front of me. I wasn’t even sure what was on.

“Michael?” I knew I was being childish, but I kept silent, kept my face blank. “What’s wrong?” Well, maybe not completely blank.

I took a deep breath and relented, taking the time to switch off the television and place my beer on the coffee table before I turned to him. He hadn’t changed much this time around. Same scruffy not-quite beard and messy hair, same face, same big eyes that were currently searching mine, sympathetic despite the fact that he had no idea why I was anything less than pleased to see him. I wasn’t sure myself.

I should have been happy. I should have been relieved. He was  _here_.

All I wanted to do was scream.

“Nineteen days left.” I said quietly.

He looked surprised, and then puzzled as he tried to work out what I was driving at. I was sure he knew what I meant, but the meaning behind it, maybe not. Stubborn me was not going to make it easy for him.

“Michael, what-?”

“Nineteen days, Gavin.” I growled. “Nineteen days left in a whole lifetime. Maybe it’s a lot for you, but do you know what it’s like for me? It’s hell.”

“Michael, what are you even on about, I  _told_  you our times are different.” He smiled and went to ruffle my hair. “I only saw you a couple of weeks ago.”

I pushed his hand away, putting more force into it than I probably needed to, grabbing his wrist and digging my nails in before shoving him away from me.

His eyes were wide, mouth open in stunned silence. There were red marks on his wrist, and it made my stomach twist with guilt for a second. I stood up from the couch, walking across the living room aimlessly, just needing to  _move_. Otherwise, the way I was feeling now, I might be tempted to hit something. I wasn’t sure where the anger was coming from, but the light-hearted way he was acting only fuelled it.

“Michael…”

“You’re my best friend, Gavin.” The only reason my voice was so level was because I was spending so much energy to keep it that way. “The best damn friend I’ve ever had but it feels like you’re not real. I almost…” I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and admitted. “I almost thought you weren’t coming this year.”

“Of course I was, Michael, don’t be a pleb.”

“Left it a bit late, didn’t you?” I snarled, pacing again. “Some friend. I only get to see you one night every three years, not even a whole night! It’s easy for you,  _you_  know when you’re coming, I don’t. I sit around waiting, and I’m never sure when I go to bed if I’m going to wake up and find that I’ve missed you or something.”

“I’d wake you up-”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” I yelled, looking at him now, still sitting on the couch. There was a hurt expression on his face but that just spurred on the anger that had been building all year, all three years, ever since he’d told me where he came from. Everything I wanted to say was coming out twisted and I couldn’t stop it. “I don’t  _know_  you, Gavin!” I ignored the way his face dropped at that.

“What sort of friendship is this when I don’t even know the first thing about you? Sure, you’re some hyperactive parallel-universe alien who decided to come and mess up my life, but don’t you think I should at least  _know who you are_? One night every three years isn’t enough to get to know someone and I shouldn’t even  _care_ -” I broke off, fingers digging into my scalp as I turned away, trying to calm my breathing.

For several minutes, after I’d stopped panting, the only thing I could hear was the clock ticking, too loud in the silence between us. I wasn’t sure he was still there and didn’t want to turn around to check. Then I heard him move.

His voice was quiet from behind me. “My lifespan is shorter than yours.” It sounded like he was struggling for calm, but I could hear the small tremor in his voice and my stomach clenched painfully. “I only get a year to be friends with you, Michael. Only a year to know you, and that’s if I manage to live a full life. One life is meant to be equal to another, but in reality, you’re life is worth more than mine.”

I spun on my heel, mouth agape. “What the fuck? How the hell do you work that out?”

Gavin had a grip on a neutral expression much better than me, the small downward pull at his mouth the only indication that he was upset.

“It’s obvious.” He said simply. “We… on my world, we’re expected to grow up as fast as our bodies do. We don’t get time to make mistakes, to get to know people much beyond what we can learn in the first hour we meet. But you, you get  _years_ , Michael. You get years and years, and maybe you only see me once between long periods of time, but you’ll know me for longer, you get to think and remember, you get to have the time I don’t. So… I’m sorry if you think you don’t know me, but you’ve got to understand that I feel… like I know everything about you. Or I  _did_.” He couldn’t stop the frown forming on his face. “I’m not sure I know you now.”

I shook my head. “You don’t make sense. Do you even  _hear_  yourself?”

“You’re being unfair, Michael.”

I launched myself across the room, and watched him flinch back as I yelled in his face.

“Un _fair_?  _Unfair_? You know what’s  _fucking_  unfair? What you’re doing to me!” His eyes flicked to mine, wide. But now that I’d started I couldn’t stop the word vomit, couldn’t stop screaming, my chest constricting painfully. “Who said you could come into my life and change me and not even  _be around_. You keep saying we’ll be friends till we’re both old, if we both live full lives, but what happens if one of us dies, Gavin? Have you thought about that? What happens if you die and never come back and I never know what happened to you? How d’you think I’d feel?”

And that was it; that was the final thought that I’d been trying to shove down, to push away. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but I’d been terrified that if he hadn’t come, it wouldn’t be because he wasn’t real. It wouldn’t be because he didn’t want to.

It would be because he  _couldn’t_.

“You know what, Gavin? I’d fucking  _prefer_  your deal. I’d prefer to be able to know you everyday for a full year, to actually know you and not be scared that you’ll forget me in the three years before you come back. Not be scared that you’ve died and never  _will_  come back, and I’ll never know-” My eyes were stinging behind my glasses, and I angrily blinked it back. Gavin was frowning, lips pressed into a thin line as I yelled at him, leaning over him as he sat frozen on the couch. “And even then, Gavin,  _even then_  I’m not sure when out of three-hundred and sixty-five fucking days you’ll decide to grace me with one of these little visits. These  _courtesy_  calls. Don’t you think  _that’s_  a bit  _unfair_?”

He stood, his hands fisted at his sides as he glared at me. The few inches he had on me in height made him seem a much more impressive figure than I was used to, the way he stood straight backed and stiff compared to the easy lean.

“If I’m that much of an annoyance to you,” He finally grated out. “Then maybe I just won’t come back.”

My eyes widened at his words, and the coldness in his voice, and all the anger drained out of me, along with the colour in my face as I watched him back away, hunching his shoulders. The air around him began to warp and panic and regret rose in my chest.

He couldn’t…

“Bye, Michael.”

 _No_ …

“Gav- don’t-”

 

There was a flash, a sound like suction, and the air settled.

No.

No no no no no no-

 

“ _Fuck_.” I choked out, feeling my legs crumble.

 

 

I fucked up.

 


	8. Chapter Seven

 

 

 

 

**_. . ._ **

 

I startled awake, unsure for a moment what had woken me before I noticed the light peeking in under the door to my bedroom. I rubbed at my eyes, confusion and the faint throbbing of a small hangover in the back of my mind; I was sure I’d turned all the lights off when I came home…

Swinging my legs out of bed with a sigh, I stumbled over to the door. It took me a second to find the doorknob in the dark, just going by feel, sleep still clouding my senses, but I eventually found it and pulled the door open. Maybe I’d grab a glass of water while I was up; my mouth still tasted like beer and the mint toothpaste I’d half-heartedly cleaned my teeth with when I got home. I’d almost not bothered, but there was nothing worse than waking up with a hangover  _and_  a bad taste in your mouth.

I froze as I rounded the corner. There was someone standing by the bookshelf – gameshelf, really – scanning the few framed photos I had arranged on top of it.

 _Shit._  I glanced around quickly for something to use as a weapon, but then the figure turned and my mind shut down.

 

_Gavin._

He looked almost as startled as I must have, despite the fact that  _he_  was the one standing in my apartment in the middle of the night. His eyebrows pulled together as he properly took in my appearance; I was sloppily dressed in pyjama bottoms and an old singlet that was way too small for me, and after a night of drinking I probably looked even worse for wear.

He opened his mouth, hesitated and closed it again, biting his lip. His eyes darted around the room, lingering on the collection of bottles on the coffee table before settling on me, and he tried again. “Happy Birthday, Michael.” His voice was timid and soft.

I forced myself to breathe.

“…yesterday.” I croaked out, inwardly cursing how weak my voice sounded. I swallowed and spoke again. “My birthday was yesterday.”

He looked puzzled, quickly looking around and crossing to the calendar on the fridge, finger tracing the days. He glanced at the clock and I let my eyes flick to it as well. One-thirty AM.

“Well, crap.” He murmured, straightening and turning to look at me, apologetic half-smile on his face.

My throat was dry, and my eyes hurt from the light, but I daren’t blink. I let my eyes roam over his appearance, taking in his clothes, identical to the last time I’d seen him, his scruffy hair, even more unkempt, and the dark rings under his eyes.

“You look like shit.” I finally said.

He let out a weak chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I kind of… haven’t slept…” he cleared his throat.

The air felt heavy, like there was a barrier between us, a line neither of us dared to cross. He kept looking away from me, eyes focusing on various things around the apartment, flicking back to me and away again. “It’s only been half a year.” I stated, wanting to hear him talk, hear his voice.

Gavin nodded. “A bit over three days for me.” He worried at his lip again. “If- I wanted to come back straight away.” He said quickly, locking his eyes on mine. “But even if I had, it would have been weeks for you already, and then the others found me and talked me down from Skipping back. Well, they practically had me under house arrest.” He ran a hand through his hair again and snorted derisively.“Said it wasn’t worth the risk to me, but they can go suck a nob, you’re worth it…” he muttered lowly, and I wasn’t sure if he meant me to hear it, but my heart clenched at the words.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” I confessed, blinking furiously as I felt my eyes prick. “Ever.”

His eyes widened, pain crossing his face, and the barrier broke and he crossed the room in a few strides, long arms suddenly around me, pulling me close.

It was the first time he’d ever hugged me.

His face buried in my hair, and I wrapped my arms around his back, head on his shoulder, taking shuddering breaths and trying desperately not to shake at the contact. His fingers traced lightly over the back of my neck, and I shivered involuntarily.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, arms tightening around me. “Michael, I’m  _so_  sorry.”

I closed my eyes and tightened my hold. He was incredibly warm, and every point of contact of his hands on the bare skin at my neck was charged with the same electricity he’d used to heal me before.

“You were right.” He continued, and I could feel his voice vibrating under my cheek. “I want… I wish I could live every day you do. I don’t want to come back each time and almost not recognise you and feel like I’ve missed so much. When I’m gone… everything changes too fast here. Everything moves too fast. I don’t want to miss the changes. I want to see you everyday, I want to see your world, see your sun…  I want all the slow moments-” He broke off and his fist clenched in my shirt, taking shallow breaths.

I ran my hands soothingly over his back. “Gavin,” I murmured and he relaxed, breathing evening out.

I let my hands settle around his waist, feeling his chest rise and fall. I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock, bottom lip drawn between my teeth and pulse pounding in my ears.

“What would happen if you stayed after dawn?” I asked quietly.

His breath hitched, and he pulled back abruptly, just enough to look at me.

“I don’t know.” He sounded genuinely surprised, as if he hadn’t even thought to entertain the idea. There was uncertainty in his eyes, and I could practically see his mind racing with all the unknowns, all the sudden possibilities.

He was still close to me, his arms around my shoulders and hands between my shoulder blades, and I could feel the static charge that he seemed to emit running down my spine.

I couldn’t stand it any longer, and stretched up just slightly – he wasn’t that much taller than me anymore – eyes trained on his lips, which parted as he realised what I was doing. He was so still, hands clenched in the fabric of my shirt, and when I flicked my eyes up to his they were wide, almost cross-eyed as he tried to keep me in focus. I could feel his breath on my mouth, hot and short as I closed the distance.

Soft. Warm. Barely-there pressure, my lips pressed to his, but the electricity that was going through me…

I didn’t force anything, just moved my mouth slowly against his, and he half-responded, hesitant, but it was enough for heat to pool low in my stomach. I broke away after only a few seconds just to bury my face in his neck, hearing his pulse racing.

“Stay.” I told him, pulling back a little; he looked shell-shocked. He opened his mouth but I cut him off, moving my arms to grip his shoulders. “Gavin, please, stay.” I didn’t bother to hide the need in my voice, and his eyebrows pulled together, face softening.

He barely made a sound, just a small moan as he crushed his mouth back to mine, and this time it wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t warm. It was hot, so hot it was almost burning, and if I thought it was electric before, it was like a lightening strike now as he pressed his body close, arching over me, one hand going up to the base of my neck to keep me still, mouth frantic on mine.

I clutched desperately at his shoulders when his tongue traced my bottom lip, slipping into my mouth only briefly but enough to make me shake. His fingers stroked across the small of my back, lifting my shirt almost imperceptively, and I sucked his lip between my teeth, drawing another quiet reverberating sound from him.

“Are you fucking purring?” I gasped when he ducked his head to my throat, lips and tongue swirling over my skin.

He just chuckled low and grazed his teeth lightly up the side of my jaw, pressing another kiss just to the side of my lips and laughing when I couldn’t help trying to chase his mouth. I curled my hand lightly around his neck for a second, then ran my fingers up through his hair, scraping against his scalp, and smirked as he made that sound again, small rumble in his throat, his eyes fluttering. He made to kiss me, but I turned my head, silently laughing.

“Mi _chael_ …”

I looked sideways at him, keeping my fingers carding through his hair and trailing along the base of his neck. “Gavin?”

He was pouting, and tried to kiss me again but I just dodged him with a smile and raised my eyebrow at him.

“Michael, kiss me…” He whined, he fucking whined, and the bedroom eyes he turned on me, not to mention his hand on my back was slowly pushing my hips into his… I gave in, grinning into his mouth.

Gavin dug a finger into the skin just under my ribs and I squirmed, grin disappearing as I tried to scowl, tugging his hair in retaliation. He just stuck his tongue into my mouth, and fuck that should be illegal, the way he kissed. Gavin kissed with his whole body, and the hotter things got the more frantic and daring he became.

He had so far stayed above the waistband of my pyjamas, but now he seemed to be throwing his own boundaries straight out the window, as his hands dove beneath the fabric of my pajamas and my underwear in one movement to grip at my ass and push me forward into him. I couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped me as the full extent – pun intended – of the situation pressed against me, and Gavin let out another one of those purring sounds.

His mouth left mine to trace down my neck again, and I panted, eyes screwed closed, lost in the sensation of his hands and his tongue and the way he ground his hips to mine. We were pressed so closely together, and yet when I ran my hands down from his hair to his shoulders and felt the thin material of his T-shirt, I came to the conclusion that there were far too many layers between us.

I ran my hands down his chest, briefly flicking my fingers over his nipples – in response to which he bit down on my collarbone – and further till I had my fingers in the loops of his jeans, tugging on them to emphasise my point. “Bed.”

He’d obviously been waiting for the invitation, because as soon as the word left my mouth he was moving, walking me backwards so fast I was sure I was going to trip, but his hands on my hips kept me steady and in seconds I was flat out on my mattress, Gavin straddling my waist and pushing my shirt up. I raised my arms and he pulled it off, tossing it unceremoniously to the side along with his own and pressing down to me again, mouth hot on my skin as he traced up my chest before pressing his lips to mine once more.

My hands found his belt, and he gripped at my waist, tongue delving into my mouth as I rolled us over. Once I was seated on top of him I practically ripped the buttons off his jeans, and grinned at the choked moan he let out when I let my hands wander over his burning skin.

I had to move back and stand up to grab the legs of his jeans and pull, taking the time to quickly rid myself of my remaining clothes, swearing when my fingers fumbled on the string of my pajamas.

When I was down to my boxers, a pair of hands lightly gripped at my hips and the waistband, and I glanced up at Gavin, kneeling in front of me on the mattress. He’d shed his own boxers, and I couldn’t help the hitch in my breath at the sight.

He leant forward until he was nuzzling at my stomach, slowly drawing his hands down my sides. My breath was coming fast and short as i watched him, and he mouthed along one of my hipbones before looking up at me, eyes hooded.

He licked his lips, kept eye contact, pressed his mouth to my skin again, and I groaned, taking his face in my hands to lean down and kiss him. His hands finally pulled down my boxers and I shivered at the cold air, kicked out of them, pushed him backwards onto the bed and climbed over him, lowering myself till our skin was pressed flush together.

It was static, every touch of his fingers searing, and I took the time to map as much of his body as I could, to touch, to relish in the soft sounds he made and the way his grip would change when I found a sensitive spot.

 

In time, I was gripping his hips, and his hands were in my hair, clutching my shoulders, our breath mingling as I bent low over him, trying to keep as much contact as possible. His long legs hooked tightly around my back, eyes never completely closed and pupils blown wide as he looked at me, urging me on, meeting me movement for movement.

Gavin murmured my name with every exhale, and I kissed him for every word.

 


	9. Chapter Eight

 

 

 

**_When I woke up…_ **

 

It was warm, warmer than it should be. I wondered briefly if I’d forgotten to turn the AC on, or if maybe the sudden stickiness as I lay on top of the sheets signalled a heat stroke, the first one of Summer. Shifting my legs to try and locate some cool spot on the bed proved futile; the entire surface of the mattress seemed to be made of heat, and I groaned into my pillow.

Something was poking my shoulder.

Not hard, just a bit of pressure, confusing to my sleep addled brain. I frowned, trying to move away, but the feeling followed me, retracting and then prodding harder, repetitively, accompanied by a low giggling.

My eyes shot open.

Bright green stared back at me. Dark pupils dilated and, yep, that was a smile now in my face. I blinked as a pair of soft lips pressed just above my eyebrow. I pushed myself up abruptly, staring, ready to pinch myself, because sitting on my bed next to me-

Gavin was practically vibrating in excitement.

“ _Michael_.” He whispered, and I’d had never heard him sound so excited, so _ecstatic_ , his eyes glowing as he gazed at me. “It’s _morning_.”

My eyes flicked to the window just to confirm that yes, the sun was up, it was daytime, and the early morning light was pouring over Gavin as he sat there, feet tucked up under him and hands splayed on the sheets. There was a slight sheen on his lightly tanned skin, pink in his cheeks and more than one red teeth-shaped mark on his neck, and yet he looked… I didn’t know how to describe it other than _pure_. He looked like a fucking angel. Messy haired, completely naked, grinning manically, completely ethereal and disturbingly… beautiful.

I had to physically bite my tongue so I didn’t tell him that.

I put a hand behind his head, fingers threading through his hair, and pulled his face to mine so I could cover his grin with my mouth. He responded enthusiastically, sweetly, but within another minute he was giggling again. It seemed like he couldn’t stop. And heck, I didn’t want him to. I was feeling pretty giddy myself.

“Come on,” I said, pulling him up off the bed.

I grabbed some spare clothes from my closet and pushed them into his hands, giving him a gentle shove towards the bathroom with a smile. Just before I closed the door on him I let my fingers trail along his arm, and gave him a look I hoped he’d understand. Because there were just too many things I wanted to say, but I had a feeling if I tried I’d get tongue-tied. From the way Gavin’s smile became just a little bit warmer, I thought he got it.

By the time Gavin emerged, damp-haired and dressed from the bathroom, I’d thrown on some temporary clothes of my own, and made us coffee. He thanked me and took a grateful gulp, smacking his lips appreciatively when he lowered his mug.

“We’ve got to do something.” He announced, slipping onto one of the stools around the kitchen table. I was busying myself with making toast; I couldn’t be bothered to make anything more complex. “I want to get a better look at your sun.”

I chuckled. “You can’t actually look at the sun, Gavin.” I told him. “It’d burn your eyes out.”

“What, really?” He looked ready to jump up and race to the window so I quickly grabbed his hand, and he happily laced his fingers through mine instead. “Well, you’ve still got to take me out. Show me your world.”

I tried not to laugh, I really did, but at his words all that popped into my mind was that song from Aladdin, and the visual that accompanied it was enough to make me snort into my coffee and promptly choke. Gavin hurriedly raced around to rub my back as I spluttered, squeaking “What? What? What’d I say?” and once I stopped coughing I couldn’t stop laughing enough to speak. It only took another minute once he was sure I was okay for him to join in, obviously only laughing at me laughing at him, because there was a confused little crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah- course I will.” I rubbed a hand over my face, little chuckles bubbling up every now and then, but finally calm. “We’re gonna have the best fucking day of your life.” I said, swinging an arm around his shoulders.

He hummed happily, nose nuzzling into my neck before he looked up and past me. “Is that supposed to be smoking?”

There followed a flurry of cursing and movement, Gavin dissolving into hysterics now as I raced around the kitchen trying to get rid of the completely charcoal-black burnt toast and waving a tea towel in front of the fire alarm when it went off. We ended up just having cereal for breakfast.

 

 

 {}

 

 

“Wow! _Wow_!”

“Gavin.” I muttered, tugging on his sleeve to keep him moving. “At least _try_ to not look like an alien who’s never seen the sky before.”

“But Michael,” He turned to me, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s beautiful!”

A group of elderly ladies tittered as they walked past us, friendly faces and knowing smiles, and Gavin beamed at them. “Morning!” They waved at him, even more amused.

“Oh my god.” I put a hand over my face, obscuring the fact that I had the biggest smile on my face. “I had no idea you were this much of a spaz. You’re like a child.”

Gavin chuckled. “Well, I am younger than you.” He reminded me.

“You definitely act like it.”

“Something tells me that was meant to be an insult.”

As soon as we’d left my apartment, I’d decided the best place to take Gavin would be Central Park. The motivation for that decision was something along the lines of hoping to run all the energy out of him, like an excited puppy. I was never giving him coffee again, big mistake. There seemed to be a lot of differences between our worlds in terms of technology and food, but I gathered that he definitely had a sweet tooth that was badly neglected in his world. It’d been a struggle to stop him pouring the entire squeezy bottle of honey over his cornflakes.

His gaze kept getting drawn upwards as we walked, forcing me to keep a hand on his arm; I took us around the less busy streets, but I still didn’t want to take the chance of him running out into traffic or something.

“So tell me about the sun on your world.” I prompted him. “You said the moon’s the same…”

“Yep!” He wrenched his eyes away from the reflection of himself in the building windows. “Our sun, well, we call it a sun, but it’s pretty dead, doesn’t emit much light at all. It’s only a little bit brighter than the moon is, so you can look right at it, and it’s like… a giant marble.” His eyes glazed over slightly as he talked, as if he was looking at the sun as he described it to me.

“It’s all swirls of reds and yellows, and there’s this curl of bright purple right in the middle of it during the warm days. And because it’s so dim, at least compared to here,” he turned his face to the sun once more, closing his eyes, and this time I stopped, not wanting to lead him blind. “The cities are full of miniature models of the sun and moon, in the centres, and they light up…the cities are lit more from artificial light than from our satellites…”

Not that different to Earth then, I thought. But at least we relied on the sun during the day, something that was obviously foreign and amazing to Gavin. I tugged on his arm.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

 

 

 {}

 

 

I was right.

When we’d turned into the front gates of the park, Gavin had gone wild. He’d raced off immediately across the grass, kicking off his shoes and tumbling about. He was incredibly light on his feet, and I recalled the night we went Free-running, watching him turn cartwheels and flips almost effortlessly. Then he flopped down onto his back, staring at the sky and chest heaving, limbs spread out about him and fingers curling in the grass.

I grabbed his shoes and wandered over to him before dropping down to sit next to him. His arm shot up and pulled me backwards till I was lying beside him; his fingers found my hand and interlaced with mine. I absently stroked my thumb over the back of his hand.

“This is top!” he said happily.

“Don’t you have parks on your world?” I asked. It felt strange to keep tacking those three words onto the end of my questions, like saying them solidified the barrier between his world and mine, the fact that he was an alien, a visitor, didn’t belong here. I gripped his hand tighter subconsciously. No, he _did_ belong here.

“Of course.” Gavin was saying. “But everything’s different in the light.”

 

 

{}

 

 

Lunch was brought up after a good few hours of Gavin dragging me around the park twice. The first time was just to see it all, the second was so he could climb trees he was technically not meant too, attempt to splash water from the fountains on me, and just examine every inch, drawn to anything that reflects and shines in the sunlight. I may have teased him about liking shiny things a couple of times.

But soon enough, he started to waiver, and I pulled him away from staring at the light reflections on the lake to the closest café. I ordered us some soft drinks – I didn’t want to take a chance with Gavin and coffee again, but he definitely needed a pick-me-up – and burgers, and we sat down at a table outside, Gavin still staring almost dazedly at everything.

“Hey.” I called softly, and he looked at me, smile widening. “Having fun?”

He nodded, leaning his head in his hands with a sigh. I mimicked him.

“Tell me about your world.” I said.

“What d’you want to know?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not that different really. Less people, and animals-” I smiled, remembering how rapt he’d been when we’d visited the zoo. “- and the technology’s a bit stranger here.” He glanced at a lady near us with an iPad on her table. He shrugged. “Nothing special.”

I didn’t quite agree with that, my eyes roving over his face, wild hair and bright eyes. “Well, tell me about your friends then. I assume I’m not the only person you talk to.”

He chuckled. “No.” he admitted. “I talk to a lot of people. Barbara, Burnie, Geoff and Griffon and Millie.” His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Millie’s the cutest thing. And then Dan, I’ve known him longest. When we were younger we’d bug everyone quite a bit, see who we could wind up, and he always managed to get his hands on really cool new technology, or nick some stuff from the alchemists that wasn’t out to the public yet. Different powders and compounds, most of it explosive. Some of it was a bit dangerous and still being tested.” He laughed abruptly. “One time Dan got a bit of glass stuck in his finger and when the Healers asked how it happened I had to lie and say he’d just fallen on some broken glass. But he had burns on his arms as well, and he had to keep his sleeves pulled down for ages afterwards…”

Gavin was staring off into space somewhere over my shoulder. “He’s my best friend.”

I couldn’t help but smile, even with the slightly jealous twinge I got from how he spoke about Dan. Our food and drinks arrived and Gavin immediately got distracted, practically inhaling the burger and visibly perking up from the sugary soda. It was so normal, just sitting here, like we could be any normal couple out for a day in the park. I stopped mid-chew, frowning slightly; ‘couple’ wasn’t really the best describing word. It felt… shallow? I shook my head as a flood of other words danced through my brain, each stupider than the last, and looked up at Gavin.

He’d finished his food, and was lapping at the last drops of his drink. Smacking his lips loudly, he grinned at me, and his eyes looked a bit wild.

“Can I have a sip?” he asked, pointing at my so far untouched drink. I shrugged, amused, but when he sucked almost half of it down in one go I quickly grabbed it back.

“I think I’ve figured out that you should not be allowed sugar.” I commented, slightly concerned as he buzzed in his seat.

 

 

 {}

 

 

Gavin was crashing by four in the afternoon, thanks to another round of the park, and I relented and bought him a sugary donut. I had one more surprise for him I needed him conscious for.

His nose was pressed to the glass, mouth open and the setting orange sun lighting up his face while he gazed out over the city. I had to admit, it was a sight. I’d only been up the Empire State Building once, when I’d first visited New York, but it had been at night and crowded, fireworks for some holiday or another pulling enough people that you could get claustrophobia in the entrance hall. Now, on the highest viewing floor, with only about four other people, there was plenty of space to watch the sunset spread out over the city.

The view was spectacular, sure, but I couldn’t pull my eyes off Gavin. The golden light on his face made it seem like he was glowing, fingertips to the glass and not a hint of fear at the dizzying height. I think it was the first time I’d even seen Gavin speechless.

It wasn’t until the sun had fully set and the city lights had started to flicker on that he pulled his gaze away, settling large eyes on me. I noticed how tired he looked, slightly drawn, but so in awe.

“Everything…” he whispered it, reverently, and I felt my face soften.

Not caring about the other people nearby, I leaned forward and captured his lips in a chaste kiss. My hands were shoved in my pockets and he didn’t take his hands off the window, but he kissed back, eyes sliding closed.

I pulled back slightly and whispered against his lips. “Want to go home?”

He nodded.

 

 

 {}

 

 

Take away boxes littered the kitchen bench, and Gavin was nursing a cup of tea between his knees, pounding desperately away at his controller.

“No, no, no, _no!_ Why won’t he jump?” he screeched, eyes glued to the television screen.

“Press A!” I called back, laughing as he struggled.

We’d been playing since dinner when he’d pointed the cases out, and he was absolutely terrible, even for a first timer. Turned out they didn’t have these sort of video games in his world.

“How did I die?!”

I hit the pause button, doubled over laughing as he turned to me indignantly, flailing his controller around. The first few team games we’d tried had ended with me yelling at him, so we’d moved on to an early version of Halo. Somehow, though I’d gone over the controls with him a thousand times, he kept on getting worse, and I’d passed the point of frustration and just enjoyed watching him get flustered as I killed him again and again. The best moment had been when he’d accidentally blown himself up with his own grenade.

The normalcy of the day, waking up with him and showing Gavin around, eating meals together, just talking… it was still a bit unbelievable, but so damn right. I don’t think I’d smiled and laughed more in one day before, my cheeks were actually sore from it. I felt like I was on cloud nine, a lucid feeling of contentment drifting over me.

Gavin huffed out a breath of air, dropping his controller with a look of disgust and sipped at his tea, pulling a face.

“Gone bloody cold.” He said. He stood and took it to the sink, tipping out the remaining tea and running water over the mug.

I stretched out on the couch comfortably, rolling my shoulders. Tomorrow was a Monday and I had to go to work, and I was trying to think about whether or not bringing Gavin into the game store would be a good idea. I doubted he would be trouble, but he might get bored just hanging around, and I didn’t really trust him not to get distracted by something shiny and end up lost in the city.

In the same vein, I didn’t want to leave him in my apartment, because though he was enthusiastic, I doubted losing at video games could keep him entertained for long. I could always leave him at Central Park with money for lunch? No, same problem, he’d spend it on coffee and sweets – why did I introduce him to sugar? – and end up trying to make friends with the lions in the zoo.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. It would have to wait till the morning; I was actually quite tired after a full day and didn’t have the brainpower to think about a babysitter or whatever. A snort laugh escaped me. It was more like having a pet than a-

Again, I didn’t know how to term it. We hadn’t exactly talked much after last night – my cheeks heated a bit at the memory – and today, rather than something like boyfriends, it had felt more like we were… well, frankly, married. But that still wasn’t right, it didn’t seem right, didn’t describe what I felt about Gavin. He was too unique, too special to be labelled. He just… was.

Arms slid around my neck and I opened my eyes, looking upside down at Gavin’s face as he bent over the back of the couch, smiling down at me.

“Are you tired, my little Michael?” he cooed and I rolled my eyes.

“Like you’re not.” I retorted. “You’ve got bags under your eyes.”

He poked out his tongue at me and pulled back. Logging out of xbox and switching the television off, I stood and followed him, having to direct him to the bathroom and dig out a spare toothbrush for him. He pulled a face at the taste of the toothpaste, seemed amused at the concept of brushing your teeth. He spoke around a mouth of white foam that on his world they had these chewy things that got rid of the bacteria in your mouth; the way he described it just sounded like a glorified gumball but his teeth seemed perfectly normal so I assumed that whatever it was worked like he said. It ended with me laughing as he accidentally swallowed some of the foam.

I gave him some spare clothes to sleep in, and he crashed out on the bed in seconds, sleepy eyes trained on me as I changed and slipped under the thin sheets beside him. He wasted no time in curling up to me, flinging an arm and leg over and sighing contentedly into my neck.

I could get used to this.

 

_**Continued >>>** _


	10. Chapter Eight - The Night

 

 

 

The shift of the mattress was what woke me. That, and the fact that it was suddenly cold. I could hear soft padding footsteps moving away from the room and the sound of a light switch. Opening my eyes minutely, I groped for my phone on the bedside table to check the time, but after a minute of flailing and finding nothing I frowned and switched on the bedside lamp. I squinted in the dim light, my eyes stinging, but though my glasses were folded carefully there, my phone was gone. And so was Gavin from the bed, which explained the cold.

Running water made me sit up. Maybe he’d just gone to the bathroom, but why was my phone gone?

I sighed and swung my legs out of bed, curiosity getting the better of me, and made my way across the hallway to the bathroom, pushing the door open.

Gavin was standing in front of the mirror, staring at himself, water dripping from his chin and stands of his hair. The tap was still running, and when he noticed me in the reflection, he shut it off, lowering his gaze to the sink.

“Gavin?” I questioned, blinking in the harsh light. “What are you doing?”

His head shot up again, and this time I got a better look at him, his expression was dark, his eyebrows pulled together and eyes red. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, confusion and protectiveness spinning in my mind, but before I could say anything he spun on his heel and thrust out his hand toward me, my phone clutched in his fingers.

“What-?”

“ _Look_.” He grated out, shaking the phone.

I hesitantly took it from his hand, and noticed he’d pulled up one of the photos I’d taken throughout the day, one of us at the park that he’d convinced a passerby to take. He had his arm slung around my shoulders and was grinning happily at the camera, and I had some cheesy smile on my face, leaning into him. I looked up again, confused by the pained grimace on his face as he looked at the phone.

“I don’t-”

He let out a low cry, his hands flying up to grip his hair and he turned back to the mirror. My bewildered face reflected back at me as he stared at himself, slowly dropping his hands and hunching over, his face turning blank.

Gavin turned around slowly, and his sudden calm disturbed me more than before.

“I’m still aging.”

My eyebrows furrowed, his words as far from what I expected as anything. I was tempted to say of course, nobody stops aging, but slowly my thoughts caught up with me, and I remembered how different our worlds were… how differently our times moved…

Oh.

“I don’t know what I thought would happen.” Gavin said, voice quiet. “But it’s the same as my world. I’m still aging like I would on my world.”

I was still gripping my phone in my hand, and I glanced between him and the picture, Gavin’s face in the morning and now. And I didn’t want to admit it but I could see the difference, not just in his expression but also in his face, barely there but the changes were noticeable. His hair was longer, stubble more pronounced, face leaner.

My stomach twisted.

“You’re getting your wish.” He continued, his fists clenched at his sides the only outward sign of stress. He could have been talking about the weather. “Exactly what you wanted. One year. My whole life in a year-”

_“I’d prefer to be able to know you everyday for a full year, to actually know you…”_

“-not even a whole year. In a month I’ll be middle aged, and you’ll still look the same as you do now. I’ll keep getting older and older, and you will still look the same. Can you imagine the photo album?” He joked. There were tears streaming down Gavin’s face, silent trails, and I could barely meet his eyes. “You get to watch me die within the year. I’ll die, and you’ll be twenty-three. We won’t even have been _together_ for a year. No such thing as anniversaries for us! I won’t even be able to celebrate your next birthday with you…”

Gavin broke, his calm façade disappearing as he collapsed, and I quickly put myself between him and the floor, my phone dropping onto the tiles. He sank into me, face buried in my chest and I felt my shirt get damp, but he didn’t make a sound. I was staring straight ahead, shock making me lock down.

He’d been so excited, so overjoyed, his fingers entwined with mine as he pulled me around Central Park, pointing and smiling, eyes overbright.

_You get to watch me die within the year…_

Hands on my skin, kisses that bruised and the feel of his hair between my fingers, heat and sweat, soft words whispered against my mouth that held all the promise in the world.

_Not even a whole year…_

The warm swooping feeling low in my stomach when he looked at me, words that I wanted, needed to say but couldn’t because it meant something, something that lifted me so high it that only made the fall worse, more painful, more dangerous.

_You’re getting your wish…_

And what could I say? I wanted him, wanted Gavin with all my being, but whichever way I chose, it wouldn’t be enough. My choice was between seeing Gavin everyday, watching his whole life pass by, compressed into a year, and seeing him once every three years, but over an entire lifetime. How could anyone choose between that?

It hurt, so badly I wanted to scream until I was hoarse, to break something, and then bend double and wrap my arms around my chest like Gavin was now, to hold everything in so I wouldn’t break. But I couldn’t, because right now I was holding Gavin together.

I didn’t realise I was crying until he lifted his head to look at me, eyes red and wet, and I could feel my heart shattering, twisting until I wanted to scream with the anger, the pain. He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers across my cheek, then leant his forehead against mine.

How could I give this up?

 

I couldn’t.

 


	11. Chapter Nine

 

 

 

**_The next morning…_ **

 

He was gone.


	12. Chapter Ten

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_It’s been a year._ **

 

One year almost to the day since he left.

I’m coping.

 

For the first few days, after waking up to my empty apartment, I tried to act like nothing was wrong. If you discounted the fact that I got angry more often, yelled at nothing, and half destroyed my apartment to the point where a neighbour I’d never spoken to hesitantly knocked on the door to ask if there was an intruder, if they should call the police. That sent me back down to Earth, but unfortunately, I crash-landed.

The following month was the hardest. It was a blur of too many drinks, days and nights mixed into one, and a few too many missed days at work, though my boss seemed to understand I was going through a rough patch. Gave me a week off if I promised to be a model employee when I came back. I appreciated it, but with the way I’d been going, spending just about every night sleepless, sitting and waiting or playing video games, I wasn’t so sure it was the best thing for me to be given time off.

Ray was the biggest help, then.

He was one of the most down to earth friends I had, and under the circumstances, ‘down to earth’ were the key words. I didn’t tell him what happened, but he picked up on enough to know I shouldn’t be left to my own devices at home for a week.

So we took a vacation. To a theme park and games resort.

Distraction, he told me, that was what I needed to forget to be a mopey bastard.

I didn’t forget, but it got me out of my slump, and pulled the first genuine smile out of me for a month.

It got easier.

As long as I kept myself busy, surrounded by friends, exhausted myself enough so as soon as I got home I could do nothing but fall into bed, I was fine.

 

 

{}

 

 

My twenty-seventh was a week ago, and Ray along with some other buddies had organised a barbeque at Jack’s house. Halfway through the night, with a good six or seven drinks under my belt, I’d told Ray.

I’d been scrolling back through the photos on my phone, and was hovering over that one of us at the park when Ray sat down beside me. I didn’t even bother to hide it; I handed over my phone and let him look through it while I finished off another beer.

He finally looked up, cautious.

“So… where is he?”

I’d shrugged - thankful he’d known it would be a useless exercise to ask ‘who’ - and even cracked a smile as I answered. “Another world.”

He hadn’t pushed me for any details, but it was enough that somebody other than me knew, understood, and the weight on my chest lifted slightly. Ray had pulled me into a one armed hug, handed my phone back and pulled me into the thick of our friends dancing and drinking. I felt lighter, and the slow burn didn’t hurt so much.

Ray hadn’t said it in so many words, had just given me this look, and I knew it meant that I needed to stop. It’d been a year; I needed to get over it. Life goes on.

 

 

{}

 

 

Friday night, walking home at three in the morning from a night out, my drunken haze making me grin like an idiot to myself, humming under my breath, I was so distracted I almost passed right by him.

It was the hair that made me pause mid step, squinting, hardly daring to believe it. I’d had enough double-takes throughout the year, I didn’t need to accost another stranger and end up stammering apologies, rushing away as quickly as I could. If he kept walking, I’d know it was just a mistake, and I’d down another beer and fall into bed, forget.

But he didn’t keep walking. He stopped when I stopped, barely three feet between us.

I didn’t move, didn’t want to break the silence. The burn was there, just below the surface, waiting to consume me.

He took a step closer, enough for the streetlight to hit his face, and I felt my heart skip.

Wide green eyes, scruffy face, flyaway hair, lanky frame. The familiarity was killing me.

“Michael.” His voice, that accent, the soft way he said my name. “It’s okay. I’m… I’m here, I’m real.”

I didn’t realise I’d been shaking my head, but I stopped at his words, and immediately regretted it, because I had to drop my gaze from his as my eyes clouded.

His arms were around me, and god did it feel right, so familiar, the scent of his skin, my face pressed into his neck, hands clutching his back. He was rubbing circles across my shoulders, one hand on the back of my head, and it sounded like he was trying to shoosh me, but his voice kept breaking. My eyes were wet, and I wanted to be angry with him, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

“It’s only been a year.” I choked out, and he let out a short laugh, the movement shaking me.

“One week.” He replied, stepping back too soon. I didn’t want to let go, but reluctantly let my arms drop and watched him shove his hands into his jacket pockets. His eyes traced over me, taking in my appearance, carefully keeping his expression neutral. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. Well, I hadn’t expected any of it; I’d given up on the chance of seeing him again months ago. Yet here he was. And I was somehow disappointed.

I cleared my throat and watched his eyes jump back to mine before averting off to the side.

“Did you wanna come in?” I asked, gesturing down the street to my apartment block.

He nodded. As we started walking, he kept a foot of space between us. It bugged me; he never used to have any qualms about personal space, or about waiting for an invitation to come inside for that matter. It had only been a week for him; surely he couldn’t have changed so much… unless he was simply keeping the distance for my sake.

I mentally shook myself, about to ask him something, anything to fill the silence, but he beat me to it.

“How’ve you been?”

…How the fuck could I answer that?

Oh, I’ve just practically been in mourning since you vanished without saying goodbye, drinking myself stupid, trying to forget and waking up from nightmares on the days when I actually manage to fall asleep.

I shrugged. “Could’ve been better.” I replied lightly. “Nothing to write home about.”

We lapsed into silence again, and he kept his eyes on his feet, even when we got to the entrance door to the apartment block. I was getting really irritated now, so as we walked up the flights of stairs, I talked. I told him about work, about the trips back to New Jersey and to various gaming places with Ray. Gavin just listened, nodding when I paused, small smile on his face, but at least now he was looking at me. I told him about the parties Ray dragged me to, new games, new films…

“I, um, dated a couple of girls.” I blurted out, eyes fixed on my hands as I unlocked my door. “Just a few dates, a few dinners, but I didn’t- I mean, it didn’t work out.”

He was silent. I kicked off my shoes and shrugged out of my hoodie, dumping it and my wallet and keys on the coffee table before making my way to the kitchen. I heard him close the door behind him.

“Drink?” I asked, trying to make my voice cheerful.

Nothing. Taking a deep breath, I turned to him. There was that little crease between his eyebrows and the smile on his face had vanished, leaving a worried sadness.

“Michael-”

“I missed you.” I interrupted him quickly. If, from the tone of his voice, this was my goodbye, a year late, I needed to tell him, couldn’t let it rot inside me. “I- when you were gone, there was nothing and I thought you were never coming back.”

He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, face drawn. “Of course I was coming back.” He whispered.

I didn’t say anything; let my gaze fall to the floor, leant back against the kitchen counter. He’d been very careful in how he’d said it; it didn’t mean he wasn’t leaving for good after tonight, and I wanted to drag this out for as long as I could.

I wouldn’t be the first to say goodbye.

“Michael,” he started again, and I lifted my head infinitesimally to let him know I was listening. He struggled for a few seconds. “Do you… still want to see me?”

My head shot up, incredulous. “Seriously? Gavin, you’re the one that left, I never-”

He was shaking his head and I felt my heart drop again. “No, I mean, do you still want to see me everyday?”

I frowned at him, unsure what he was driving at. “I… I wouldn’t want to if it meant you were going to, y’know, not live more than a year.” I struggled out. There was a lump in my throat at the reminder of why he had left in the first place. “I couldn’t watch you live your whole life and fade away while I stayed still. I couldn’t watch you die.” I admitted, well aware that it sounded selfish.

Gavin waved a hand impatiently. “I know, but… but just say there were no consequences, say I could live another eighty years,” Suddenly he was walking forwards, closing in, standing right in front of me and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched when he locked eyes with me. “Would you still want me everyday?”

I noticed the change in how he worded the question, and my heart leapt. He hesitated, then reached out a hand and brushed his fingers over the back of mine, hopeful smile on his face, and I sucked in air.

“Idiot.” I whispered, letting a smile break out over my face in relief. “Of course I would.” I continued, voice softening.

Gavin grinned, full on wide toothy smile that I hadn’t seen in too long, and his eyes lit up.

“I’ve got a plan.” He said, excitedly, and his hand closed around mine.

Suddenly, Gavin was speaking a mile a minute, pulling me to the couch. “I talked to some other Skippers when I went back, the older ones who’d been doing it their whole lives, about why there’s such a difference in time between our worlds-”

He sat down, and tugged until I was sitting next to him before shoving his hands in his pockets and rifling through his jacket. “And why when we Skip through we still age, even though the time works different, because it only makes sense that if you’re in a different world and time that your body should adjust to it, not-”

“ _Gavin_. Shut up for a minute.” My head was spinning; no small part of it from the lingering alcohol in my system, but thankfully Gavin paused and turned to me, focused.

“Tell me,  _slowly_ , what it is your talking about.”

I blinked as he leaned forward abruptly, and leaned his forehead against mine. We sat for a moment, still, and the weight and pressure actually helped, so that I was feeling a bit more grounded when he pulled back.

“I want to stay.”

He said it quietly, simply, and waited, looking at me expectantly. I nodded, resettling on the couch. Gavin took another breath and turned his eyes to his hands, and the plastic and leather wrapped folders.

“I told you before I didn’t know much more than the basics, and I’d thought I couldn’t stay here during the day, but I  _could_ , and it made me think that there must be more similarities. After all, biologically we seem the same, and apart from my world having the technology to Skip, we’re on pretty much the same level. The biggest difference is  _time_. So I did some research-“ He opened the folders as he spoke, pulling out notebooks held together with bands and some loose sheets of paper, putting them down on the coffee table. “And two days ago I found these. Read some old journals, went through some charts and books about the rift and our worlds and-”

“Wait, you read all these in two days?” There were about twelve books and a couple of folded pieces of old looking paper, and the writing I could see was miniscule.

He grinned smugly. “I’m a fast reader.” He straightened, and clapped his hands on his knees. “So anyway, the point is, I think I know how to change worlds. Permanently.”

My eyebrows shot up, but when I opened my mouth he held up a hand, and darted to the kitchen. I swivelled in my seat to watch him as he poured out a glass of juice, and bring it back, set it down on the coffee table, taking a seat beside me again.

“Remember when I told you how the strongest connection between our worlds was the moon, and that’s how we can Skip?” he asked, eyes overbright. “Well, we can also use it to get me stuck in your world.”

He dug his hand into his pocket once more, and I frowned at the small tube of what looked like sugar that he poured into the juice.

For a wild moment it looked like cocaine, and I shook my head.

“Gavin, what-?”

“Skippers can only travel between worlds at night, right? And though I was able to stay in your world during the day, I was still tied to  _my_  world, that’s why I kept aging like I normally do. So all we have to do is cut the tie!” he finished excitedly.

I raised an eyebrow. “And you think you’ve figured out how to do that?”

“Yep!”

I looked at him expectantly, and Gavin glanced up at the clock on my wall, smile widening when he looked back at me.

“I’m going to die.”

I stopped breathing.

When I refocused my eyes, Gavin had his hands on my shoulders, holding me up and I vaguely wondered if I’d blacked out for a second. My head was hurting, my hangover catching up with me, and I glared at him.

“You okay?” Gavin was asking, concerned. I shoved him away.

“Are you fucking insane?” I hissed. “Kill yourself, Gavin? Really?  _That’s_  your plan?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, but it’ll be okay! Because it only has to be for a minute or so. If I die here while it’s still night, in your world, then when the sun rises, I’ll be Earth born.  _Reborn_. Not connected to my world, but to the world my body’s in.”

“But you’ll be dead!” I yelled. I tried to stand but Gavin grabbed my hand and held on tightly, desperately willing me to stay. I felt like punching him in the face.

“Not if you bring me back.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I could really feel the headache now. “So how exactly are you proposing you fucking top yourself?” I asked through clenched teeth.

Gavin’s eyes slid from mine to the glass of juice on the table. The small empty tube that I’d thought contained sugar was lying beside it.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I deadpanned.

“It’s fine! It’s designed to stop the heart, not the brain. I’ll be technically dead, but not brain-dead.”

“You already are brain-dead.” I muttered.

He rolled his eyes. “All you have to do is give me a little whack on the chest and my heart’ll start. As long as we get the timing right and you bring me back, I’ll be fine.”

“How the fuck did you even get a hold of something like this?”

Gavin looked sheepish for all of two seconds, eyes shifted away. “Dan… when I told him, he- he helped me get it, helped with the research, he understood why-.” He swallowed heavily, looked back at me. “It’s going to work, Michael.”

As I looked at him, at the earnest expression on his face, all I could think was that this felt like a Sci-Fi film. Like something out of Star Trek. The crazy scheme that involved some main character sacrificing themselves for the good of the crew and the success of the mission, then against all odds they were saved at the last minute, happily ever after, roll credits.

But this wasn’t a fucking movie.

It was unbelievable enough that Gavin was real – I’d found myself questioning my sanity plenty of times over my life because of him – and if I hadn’t seen the proof that he travelled between worlds with my own eyes, I’d have committed myself to an asylum years ago.

I glanced down at our hands, his fingers still gripping mine, and let out a breath, speaking slowly. “Look, Gavin, even if I thought this would work, which I don’t, just so you know,” I added, seeing him open his mouth to protest. “Why do you think I’d let you try? I mean, has anyone on your planet actually managed to switch worlds before?” He was silent. “You’ll be throwing your whole life away for no good reason.”

Gavin looked down. “I have a reason.” He murmured, so quietly I could barely here him, and his eyes met mine again. My chest tightened, his unspoken words made clear in the way he looked at me, the way his grip on my hands tightened.

My lips were dry, and I licked them, unable to keep my mouth shut, desperate to make him see sense. “Gavin, I don’t want to lose you-”

“Don’t you want me to stay?”

“Fuck, of course I do, but-”

“Well there you are then.” He cut me off, and released my hand abruptly, just to cup my face in his hands and press his lips against mine. A shock of electricity jumped through me, and I let my eyes drift closed, shivering when his tongue traced my lip in a motion all too familiar. He pulled back enough to whisper, “Just trust me.” then kissed me again, insistent and warm so I couldn’t think to pull away.

His fingers spread along the side of my face, thumb stroking at my cheek and jaw, one hand moving down to curl around my waist. I pressed my mouth harder against his, and when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, I couldn’t help the low moan that escaped me. Fuck, I’d missed him.

Gavin pulled away too soon, pressing his lips to mine once more sweetly before standing and wandering over to the window, peering outside. I hadn’t realised it had started getting light, but there was a definite glow to the inky sky.

Gavin rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head. My lips were still tingling with the leftover electricity he seemed to emanate and I watched him, a little dazed - until he sat down in the only armchair I had, picking up the glass of juice, and the words of his plan raced through my head. I jumped to my feet, fully intending to swat the glass out of his hand, wrestle him into a headlock if I had to, my mouth opening angrily.

Gavin cut me off before I could say a word. “Only wake me up when the sun’s above the horizon.” He said sternly, and my stomach dropped as he downed the glass in one go.

I was frozen in disbelief, and found myself silently reciting  _please don’t work please don’t work_  in my head, eyes trained on him.

He pulled a face at the taste, placing the glass back on the table, and settled back in the armchair, smiling up at me. I stared at him, fists clenched at my sides; the seconds ticked by and Gavin was still looking at me, taking long breaths.

Then his breathing stuttered and his eyes closed.

“Fuck!” I launched myself at him, kneeling in front of him, hands scrabbling for his wrist, feeling desperately and trying to recall high school CPR. I couldn’t find the pulse and moved my fingers to his neck, painfully aware of the lack of movement in his chest. He was still warm.

I couldn’t help it; I glanced out the window, and the sky was stained light yellow and pink.

No pulse.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _fuck…”_

I put my hands on his chest, one over the other, and started pushing down in jerky movements.

“C’mon, c’mon, breathe, Gav, breathe, please…”

Hands over his chest, push down firmly, steady pace. Pinch the nose, tilt the head back, two full breaths. I couldn’t remember how many repetitions I was meant to do but I kept it up, desperate, cursing at him between breaths. Nothing. I looked back at the window.

“No, no,  _no,_  don’t you dare do this to me-”

The sun had crested above the horizon, and the image was burnt into my retinas when I turned back, tears streaming down my face.

_Breathe!_

I tried again, trying to hold my breathing steady as I pressed my mouth to his. My hand was over his heart, the lack of pulse obvious, and I broke off, a sob breaking from my throat.

_Not if you bring me back._

“Gavin-”

 

_Don’t you want me to stay?_

“-you fucking moron-”

 

_I don’t want to lose you._

He was wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sun’s rays bled out over the sky, and it lit up his face. Rough stubble, flyaway hair, too-big nose, closed eyes. No movement.

He still looked beautiful.

I felt almost separate from my body, but the wrenching pain in my chest that made me double over, spasming with choking sobs, and the tears burning my eyes were all too real.

If he had never come back, at least I’d have had that one day with him. I’d have the memory of every visit, every moment, and if he’d never come back I could have dealt with not knowing, because there would have always been that  _what-if_ , that dull spark of hope that maybe he’d come back.

I’d have known he was alive.

Anger surged through me, and my arm moved without me telling it to, hand clenching into a fist before I brought it down over his chest in a dull thump and-

Gavin jolted.

 

And coughed.

 

His eyelids twitched.

Relief flooded through me as his eyes opened with a wince, and he closed them against the sunlight streaming through the windows. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding and let my head drop against his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed.

He was  _breathing_.

 

“Did the sun come out?”

I choked on my laughter, face buried in his slowly dampening shirt.

“You’re the sun.” I mumbled, suddenly exhausted. I couldn’t stop crying silently and I couldn’t care less. His arms came up around me, fingers in my hair and warm on my back and I felt him chuckle in return.

“God, I hate you so much. Don’t,  _please_ , don’t ever do something that stupid again.” He only held me tighter.

“I don’t have to now.” He yelped when I pulled back and punched his arm, hard, glaring but unable to hold back the grin on my face.

“Promise me.” I said, staring him down.

And Gavin slid his hands around me, pulling me forward, whispered against my neck. "I promise."

 


	13. Epilogue

 

 

 

**_One year later._ **

 

“Gavin? Have you got my phone  _again_?”

I let my mouth stretch into a grin as I looked up from where I was nestled into the couch. Michael’s bemused face looked down at me, and his eyes travelled to the screen of his phone, clutched in my hands. A smile crept up his face as he saw what was on the screen.

The photo album of pictures of us I’d collated over the past year.

It had taken me a while to stop marvelling at how slowly it took for me to age in Michael’s world. He’d walked in on me more than once, examining my face in detail in the bathroom mirror and comparing it to the log of photos on his phone. It may have been a bit narcissistic, but I couldn’t help looking at the photos of me, even if they were taken barely a week ago, and seeing just how little my face, my hair, everything changed.

A week meant nothing really changed, now.

Another surprise had been the gravity. It turned out that my world had had a much weaker pull of gravity than Michael’s, and now that I wasn’t tied to that world anymore, my body felt the effect of the heavier gravity. Turns out I’m not as light on my feet as I thought I was. The result had been an onslaught of clumsiness that ended more than once with me collapsed on the couch, ice and bandages over my bruised shins and ankles, and once, a dislocated shoulder. That had not been fun.

Michael had laughed at my clumsiness, but looked after me for a while, and I admit that I kinda dragged it out longer than it actually took to heal, if only to have him wait on me hand and foot. He’d called me out for it when he’d got home from a long day at work and I’d thoughtlessly launched a wrestling attack on him, obviously with full mobility in my arm. Plus side was, after he'd chewed me out for lying, the wrestling match had turned into something much more interesting...

I jumped back to reality as he vaulted over the back of the couch to land beside me, and pulled my legs onto his lap. “Are you checking yourself out again?” he asked teasingly. “Need me to leave you alone for a few minutes?”

My cheeks heated up and I smacked him lightly on the shoulder with a chuckle. “I was looking at you in the photos, actually.” I admitted, and he perked up.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” I replied seriously, looking at him from the corner of my eye. “Just wondering what happened to your face- No, Michael, please!” I squealed as leaped on me, his fingers digging into my sides just under my ribs – a spot he knew was overly ticklish – and rucking up my shirt to dance his fingers across my stomach.

I dissolved into laughter, bucking and trying to wriggle away from him, but he just let out a low laugh of his own and straddled my hips, sitting on my kicking legs and effectively trapping me. I lost my grip on his phone, trying to grab at his wrists, and it bounced to the floor, thankfully unbroken. Michael’s eyes flicked to it and back to me, evil grin spreading across his face as he pinned my arms on either side of my head.

 “Now look what you did,” He drawled, but there was no real anger in it, and he shifted his hips forward slightly, teasing.

I couldn’t move to retaliate, so I did the only thing I could; scrunched up my face in my trademark Smug Nostril Flare Number Two and poked my tongue out.

In under a second he swooped down, planting his mouth over my own and tongue swirling around mine in a way that made my toes curl. I let out a contented hum, eagerly kissing back, and when I felt his hands release mine I wound them into his hair, the soft curls that I loved so much.

His hands traced down my chest smoothly, dipping low, and then sharply digging into my ribs again, his mouth swallowing the breathy gasp and giggles that were bubbling up.

I squirmed and breathed into his mouth, “You’re a prick.”

Michael pulled back, his fingers relenting their attack on my sides, instead tracing up my arms to twine with my own.

“Having second thoughts?”

His eyes shone, smile bright, and I revelled in the warmth as he looked at me. The words were incongruous, but I knew he meant them about my decision to give up my world, to stay with him, in his world.

Our world.

I stretched up, caught his lips with my own, squeezing his hands.

"Not a chance."

 


End file.
